It Just Doesn't Make Sense
by mandassina
Summary: Parody fix-it-fic for Children of Earth. If you loved CoE this is not for you. If you have lingering questions and are seeking answers, come on in, you might find them here.
1. Still In Shock

**Disclaimer:** Children of Earth doesn't belong to me, and I wouldn't want to claim it if it did. Torchwood, on the other hand, was a wonderful science fiction program, and I sadly have to confess that none of the characters belong to me. This is a work of fan fiction written for entertainment and not for profit.

**Author's Note: **I debated long and hard before posting this here. It has been languishing on my LiveJournal for seven months, because I am not sure this is the way I want to represent myself to a larger audience. This story is not intended to be mean and spiteful, but to some it might come across that way. It is intended to be a thoughtful criticism in an entertaining format, but if you thought _Children of Earth _was the best thing to ever happen to _Torchwood_, then please move along. There is nothing for you to see here.

**_It Just Doesn't Make Sense: Chapter One_**

_Still in Shock_

Jack sat motionless on the bench, staring at the wall across from him. It had been, oh, at least a couple of days since Alice had come through the door, looked at him, and walked away in disgust, and he couldn't blame her for it. No one had asked him to move. In fact, now that he thought about it, he must have been here closer to three or four days. People were starting to have conversations around him as if he was part of the furniture.

The familiar whooping of the TARDIS didn't even pull Jack out of his reverie. He just wasn't interested. It really didn't matter to him anymore. He was content to sit here until he died of thirst, but if the Doctor tried to cheer him up now, he'd kick the Time Lord's arse for it being too little, too late. He dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to face his old friend as an abject failure.

His eyebrows shot up as a pair of highly polished men's dress shoes appeared in his line of sight. "Busy regenerating, were y . . ." He stopped in mid-breath to see a pair of small trainers join the dress shoes.

"You just going to sit there and mope all day?" a much beloved voice asked. "Or are you going to help us undo this fiasco?"

Jack let his gaze travel up the short legs, over the jumper, and rest on that beaming little face. "S-Stephen?" he gasped, and reached out to touch the boy's hair. But his hand stopped, trembling just centimetres from the child, as if to touch him would shatter the illusion. He glanced up at the boy's chaperone and got an encouraging smile. He looked back at Stephen and grinned.

"Uncle Jack!" Stephen squealed and leaped into his arms.

Jack held the boy as tight as he could without damaging him, breathing in the scents of children's shampoo and bubble bath, the fabric softener his daughter used, andworms? He began to chuckle. Stephen had been playing outside, and probably had something in his pocket that would make Alice rant later. That mental image made him laugh aloud, and soon, he was so overwrought, he was sobbing.

"Uncle Jack?" Stephen queried in concern.

"You . . . you're real, aren't you?" Jack asked anxiously. Looking up, he said desperately, "You're really here, not just a hallucination?"

Ianto smiled and nodded. Jack carefully set Stephen aside, showering him with kisses even as he did so. Then he surged to his feet and pulled Ianto into a bone-crushing hug and claiming his mouth in a passionate kiss. Pulling away, he began to sob again. "I love you, too, Ianto!" he said vehemently. "You know that, don't you? I need you to know that. _Please _tell me you know that! Tell me you know that I love you."

Ianto cradled Jack's face between his palms and shushed him gently. "Shhhh, _cariad__,_" he said. "Of course I know." He placed a chaste little kiss on Jack's lips and another on his forehead. Jack offered him a watery smile and Ianto wiped away his tears with his thumbs.

"Now, cut the melodrama, Jack," he said. "This is scifi." Glancing down, he took Stephen's hand and walked briskly toward the TARDIS. Halfway there, he called over his shoulder, "Come along, Jack. Work to do."

Jack stared gaping after them for a moment or two, and then trotted along behind them, giddy with surprise and relief.

TBC


	2. The Problem

**Disclaimer: **_Children of Earth_ doesn't belong to me, and I am glad of that. _Torchwood_ isn't mine either, but if it were, I would have taken much better care of it. This story is a work of fan-fiction written for entertainment and not for profit.

**Author's note: **Apologies for all the Gwen-bashing. I mean no disrespect to Eve Myles, but transforming from a whinging harpy who can't obey her boss and leave well enough alone in "Adrift" to a late-for-work slacker who's shagging at home while her colleagues are getting blown up in "Fragments" to the woman-who-can-command-the-Cardiff-PD having never risen above the rank of PC before she quit without giving notice in "Exit Wounds" to Super Gwen, the gun-toting, diving-out-of-the-back-of-ambulances, out-shooting-professional-mercenary-snipers, female action hero of _Children of Earth_ all in the course of four episodes at the same time as two of my favourite characters are killed (Tosh and Owen) and two others suffer a terminal attack of the stupids (Jack and Ianto) makes Gwen an easy target. In my opinion Competent!Gwen would have awesome on her own, but after the Gwen we saw in S1 & S2, she is just a blatant attempt by RTD to shove Excalibur down my throat and make me like it.

This is the exactly reason I debated posting this story here, not that I expect many people to object. It's just that this is my longest work published to date, and I don't want people to remember me for mocking _Torchwood_ or any of the characters when I really loved the show that was _Torchwood_ before _Children of Earth_ destroyed it. I have posted other, shorter works that show my love for the programme, and while I hope you all enjoy this, I want you to read and remember my other stories even more.

**_It Just Doesn't Make Sense: Chapter Two_**

_The Problem_

"Doctor? What's going on?" Jack asked, almost managing to sound like his usual chipper self when he entered the TARDIS. He was surprised and relieved to find Alice there, along with Ianto, Stephen, Rhys, Gwen, PC Andy, and Ianto's sister, Rhiannon. He was surprised and a bit bewildered to find Agent Johnson, Lois Habiba, Dr. Rupesh Patanjali, and Clem MacDonald there as well.

"Seems you have a problem with a TRD," the Doctor said.

"A TRD?" Jack said. "But I thought they were mostly harmless, just writing bad television dramas and feeding off the energy generated as fans tried to work out how to fix the plot holes and why certain characters are written so out-of-character. Don't they have a commune in Hollywood or something?"

"Yes," the Doctor agreed, "but this one has developed something of a god-complex of late. Seems to think it can just destroy everything the fans love and start fresh, and unfortunately, somehow it has become so powerful that it has started affecting reality."

"What does TRD stand for?" Gwen asked.

Waving his hand as if batting away a mosquito, the Doctor said, "It's initials for something, but I know for a fact that the T is just made up because there is already something out there called an RD." As he was speaking, the Doctor had called up an image of the creature in question.

"Bloody 'ell," Rhys swore.

"It's hideous," Johnson said.

"Oh, dear," Lois murmured.

Alice gasped in shock, Rupesh gaped at it, and Ianto and Rhiannon pulled identical faces, which, in light of recent events, was creepy.

"Ewwww!" Jack and Stephen complained at the same time, which was somehow even creepier.

"Looks like a Caucasian Kim Jong Il on steroids," Andy observed.

"And that's precisely the problem, PC Andy," the Doctor informed him.

"Isn't it! Isn't it!" Clem hissed in his excitement.

The Doctor peered at the old man over his specs, then smiled brilliantly at him. "Yes, it is." Getting a shy smile in return, he continued his explanation. "This particular TRD has gotten so powerful that its machinations have started to spill over into your world, and it has got to be stopped."

"Ok, so we know what the problem is," Gwen said. "How do we stop this . . . this . . ." She tried saying it all as one syllable, just to remind everyone how special she was, "this Trd?"

Rhys and Andy snorted.

Clem whispered, "Isn't it! Isn't it!" and chuckled.

"Oi!" Alice barked and covered Stephen's ears too late.

Rupesh snickered.

Jack and Stephen gave prurient giggles in perfect unison, which somehow managed to be both extremely creepy and perfectly adorable at the same time.

Ianto and Rhiannon both rolled their eyes and groaned, which was extremely creepy and not adorable at all.

Of course it was the laughter that made Gwen realize what she had said, and she blushed crimson. "Oh, _God_! Sorry!" She apologized. "Really. Sorry. Sorry."

The Doctor peered at her over his glasses and said, "You certainly are."

"Oi!" Rhys shouted. "That's my wife you insulted!"

"I know," the Doctor told him. "And I am so, so sorry."

Somehow, the Doctor's apology sounded more sincere and compassionate than any of Gwen's ever had, and that was all it took to shut Rhys up.

Clearing his throat, Ianto said, "Not to put too fine a point on it, but Gwen has a good question."

"How do we stop the bloody thing?" Rhiannon broke in, asking the question in unison with her baby brother.

"You know, that whole talking in unison thing, it's losing its effect," the Doctor informed them. "It isn't all that creepy any more. Now it's just annoying, so just don't. Don't do that."

"Sorry," Ianto and Rhiannon replied in unison.

Which made the Doctor roll his eyes and groan in frustration.

Which made Jack and Stephen giggle in unison.

Which made the Doctor give them his best Oncoming Storm glare.

Which shut everyone up.

Satisfied, the Doctor went back to the question at hand. "How do we stop it? That's simple," the Doctor said, but before he could explain, he was interrupted.

"Wait a minute here!" Gwen shouted indignantly, anxious to focus attention back on herself. "Andy says 'bloody hell,' and Ianto and Rhiannon get to say 'bloody,' but Alice gets angry at me for accidentally saying 'turd?' That's not fair."

"No, it isn't," the Doctor agreed unapologetically. "But then, neither is life."

"This isn't about you, love," Rhys said gently. "How _do _we stop it, Doctor?"

TBC


	3. The Solution

**Disclaimer: **Torchwood isn't mine. I would have come up with something better than CoE.

**_It Just Doesn't Make Sense: Chapter Three_**

_The Solution_

"Jack," the Doctor said in the tone of a teacher calling on a prized pupil and expecting him to have the answer. "What are the two most common ways of killing a being that lives on free energy?"

"Well," Jack said thoughtfully. "Usually the easiest way is to cut it off from its energy source."

"Like the alien sex gas?" Gwen piped up.

"Sex gas?" Rhys and Andy echoed in unison.

"Sex gas?" Rupesh repeated a moment later.

"It's not creepy unless you say it in unison," Lois informed Rupesh.

"It's not really creepy at all!" the Doctor shouted in exasperation.

"Trust me, lads, you don't want to know," Gwen assured the three men.

"Yeah, talk about a ruined orgasm," Ianto muttered.

"Hey, we have footage on that!" Agent Johnson said turning to Gwen. "I don't know how we came by it, but it showed up around the time the American President died on the _Valiant_. I knew you looked familiar. You have a very . . . interesting interrogation technique."

Jack and the Doctor shared a significant look that was lost on the others.

"One more word, you cow, and I _will_ kill you," Gwen said, and she was scary enough that Johnson shut up.

Rhys and Andy shared a significant look that was not at all lost on Gwen. "I told you, you don't want to know."

Ignoring the by-play, Jack continued, "Or you can overload it."

"Like Abaddon?" Ianto gasped. "Jack, no."

"Relax, Ianto," Jack told him. "This is thought energy, not life energy."

"And we all know Jack never thinks," the Doctor teased.

Ianto bristled, and the crowd in the control room fell silent once again. The angry, virile, young Welshman cut an imposing figure, and for a moment, Gwen wondered how she wound up with Rhys. Then she thought of his spaghetti Bolognese, his bloody beans, and how he took care of the laundry and the washing up and knew she was perfectly happy. Rupesh just wondered if he had a single brother.

"You lost the privilege of insulting him the moment you abandoned him, sir," Ianto challenged the Doctor.

"It's ok, Yan," Jack assure him. "He came back."

"To refuel, Jack, not for you," Ianto reminded him. "I'm sorry, _cariad_, but we both know that's the truth. He has a lot to answer for, and he's barely begun."

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor spoke up. "Quite right, Mr. Jones," he admitted. Turning to Jack, he said, "I'm sorry, Captain. That insult was uncalled for. Actually, I've gathered you all together because you lot are so clever. With so many brilliant people thinking at him, this TRD doesn't stand a chance."

"Sounds like a good idea, Doctor," Lois said. "But what are we supposed to think about?"

"Well, try to stay with me on this," the Doctor told her, and swept the group with his eyes to include all of them. "The last few horrible days that you all have lived through . . . or not, as the case may be," he added soberly looking round at Ianto, Stephen, Rupesh, and Clem. "These last few days haven't been real. They've all been a creation of the TRD's mind, and if you think back to when everything started, you'll notice a lot of little, or possibly very big, inconsistencies, in your behaviour and just in the way the world works in general."

"So, we question those inconsistencies," Johnson said.

"And it overloads the TRD," Andy added.

"And the monster blows up?" Stephen suggested excitedly.

"Exactly," the Doctor told him indulgently.

"Yayyyyy!" the little boy cheered.

"Yay," Ianto echoed with little enthusiasm. "Another bloody mess for me to clean up."

"Oh, don't feel so bad, mate," Rhys encouraged him. "We'll help you."

Ianto tried to grunt graciously, but he doubted the offer would be honoured in the end.

"All right then," Jack said. "Where is this thing? Let's get started."

"Actually, it's in California now," the Doctor told him.

"Oh, God, no! We have to hurry, Doctor," Jack said urgently. "We have to stop it before it teaches its tricks to the other TRDs. They could destroy the world, or at least post-watershed television!"

"Hello? Time machine? Not a problem," the Doctor gestured around him to indicate the TARDIS. "We'll get there before he unpacks his shipping crates, but we do have something else we need to do first."

TBC

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	4. Confrontation

**Disclaimer: **_Children of Earth_ isn't mine, and I wouldn't want it if it came with a box of chocolates. Sadly, _Torchwood_ isn't mine either. If it was, I wouldn't have let it get mixed up with that nasty _CoE_ kid down the street.

**_It Just Doesn't Make Sense: Chapter Four_**

_Confrontation_

"Now remember," the Doctor said as he flitted around the room. "It's not enough to just list the problems and inconsistencies of the last few days. You have to really think about them. You have to think about ways to explain them, justify them, or fix them, because it is that thought energy, that logic that will stop the TRD."

Ianto, who stood by the door burdened with an armload of bright yellow Mackintoshes and a mountain of boots said, "And please be sure to do up your raincoats and put on your Welleys. When that thing explodes, it's going to make quite mess, and I'm not doing anybody's laundry except my own if you don't take proper precautions."

"Doctor, what's the Ghostbusters' backpack for?" Rhys asked as he fiddled with one of the clasps on his Mackintosh.

"That's a brilliant question, Mr. Williams," the Doctor praised him. "When the TRD blows, it's going to release a quite lot of thought energy," he explained. "I'm going to capture it in this and use it to set things right back in the UK."

"How are you going to do that?" Gwen asked.

"The same way the TRD generated it in the first place," the Doctor explained.

"But how's that?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes impatiently. "For a clever woman you really are quite thick, aren't you?" he asked. "I should think that would be quite obvious. Stephen?"

"Through the telly, silly lady," the little boy told Gwen. "Remember, it wrote television programmes and killed off all the characters everyone liked."

Frowning, Gwen just said, "Oh."

"Come on, love," Rhys said, holding open a raincoat for Gwen. "Don't just stand there gawping. Put your Mack on."

Still pondering Stephen's explanation, Gwen slid her arms into the sleeves of the Mackintosh and began to fumble with the fastenings. After a few minutes of frantic activity as everyone put on their protective gear and checked their lists of inconsistencies, the Doctor took his place at the TARDIS console and asked, "Everyone ready?"

A sea of heads clad in yellow rain hats nodded at him.

"All right then, just remember, I have to give it a chance to come quietly first," he said. "If it is willing to cooperate, we just take it into the TARDIS and I'll deal with it once we put the UK back to rights. But have those lists ready in case it resists."

He looked at the group gathered round him and said proudly, "You'll all be brilliant." Meeting Gwen's eye, he said, "Even you." Pushing a button and sliding a lever, he shouted, "Allons-y!"

The TRD, now going by the human name of Trusty Davis because it echoed the name of his species and he rather liked the irony of calling himself 'Trusty' in light of what he'd done to the characters and fans of his latest series, was just placing the last of his awards, a creepy little gold mask with one eye missing, on a shelf when a whooping noise alerted him to intruders in his flat. Turning from the shelf, he was stunned to see a blue 1950's-style police box materializing in his lounge. The door to the police box swung open and out stepped a thin man lost inside a Mackintosh coat and wearing a heavy looking backpack. An electrical cord came out of the backpack and connected to something that looked like a fluorescent light tube.

"You, sir, have caused entirely too much trouble on this planet," the comical figure said. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

"Who are you kidding?" Trusty Davis laughed maniacally. "I'm an award-winning television writer and producer." He turned and indicated the extensive collection of dust catchers he had just finished unpacking. "Look at all my lovely trophies."

"Yes, you were a big fish in a small pond for a while," the Doctor agreed. "But you haven't won any awards _here_ and you never will because I'm going to see to it that you _never_ work in this town."

"You and what army?" Trusty asked.

"No army, just a few very brilliant friends," the Doctor told him as a small mob came spilling out of the police box.

Trusty laughed again. "What? I'm supposed to be intimidated by nine hysterical women in funny coats?"

Jack and Ianto exchanged mildly perturbed looks. "Doesn't quite grasp human anatomy, does he?" the Welshman observed.

"Apparently not," Jack replied. "But for the record, you can grasp my anatomy any time. Just please, be gentle."

"Time and place, lads," Gwen advised them before either could get the idea to slip back into the TARDIS for a quick grope. "We've work to do."

"It can't count very well, either, can it?" Lois asked. "There are thirteen of us."

"And only five are woman," Rupesh pointed out.

"Right," Ianto said. "And while one of them has daddy issues, one is a cold-blooded assassin, one is a brilliant temp, one is a harried mother of two hellions, and one is self-centered and tactless, none of them are hysterical."

"Give Gwen a couple of weeks for the pregnancy hormones to kick in," Jack said. "That'll change."

"I'm really in for it, aren't I?" Rhys moaned.

"Oh, you have no idea," Jack replied. "Why I remember . . ."

"Time and place, Jack," Ianto sternly reminded him again. As much as he loved his captain, Jack could be a bit ADD at the most inconvenient times.

"If five are women . . ." Stephen finished counting on his fingers. "Then eight are men." Grinning, he looked up at Alice. "The nice lady's right. He can't count, can he Mummy?"

"Not as well as you, my clever boy," Alice said proudly.

"Brilliant, Stephen," the Doctor cheered the child. "That's what we need to do. Don't just point out the problems, but try to explain them. It's that thought energy that we need to focus on the problem."

"Isn't it! Isn't it!" Clem hissed. "But this one's a poof," he nodded toward Ianto. "So how do we count 'im?"

"Oi! That's my brother," Rhiannon objected, swatting the old man on the arm. "You don't get to talk about him that way."

"I've been in a mental hospital the past forty-four years," Clem replied. "Sorry if I don't know all the PC terminology, but I don't mean nothin' by it. That's just what we called 'em in my day."

"If you've been in hospital all that time, how do you know what 'PC' is?" Johnson asked suspiciously. "They only started saying that in the eighties."

"I don't know," Clem said. Scowling, he turned to the TRD. "It's you, isn't it? Isn't it! Isn't it!"

"It's still creating . . . weird stuff," Andy surmised. "We have to stop it!"

The Doctor fumbled a hand-held scanner out of his pocket and pointed it toward the TRD. "Can you feel it?" he asked calmly. "The energy build-up."

Trusty just laughed insanely. "I live on this stuff," he said, standing with arms outstretched as if basking in the sun. "Why should I fear it?"

"Because these few humans, these few brilliant humans, can generate more of it than you are able to absorb," the Doctor said. "I'll ask you again. Come with me peacefully. I'll take you to a planet where you can build mazes for small rodents and live off the thought energy they produce trying to find the cheese."

"Oh, this isn't some bloody reality show!" Trusty sneered. "I'm not going to survive on rat when I can have California cuisine."

The Doctor became sombre but determined. "If that's your final answer, then I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, but if you won't leave this world peacefully, we will have to destroy you."

TBC

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	5. Warming Up

**Disclaimer: **_Children of Earth_ obviously isn't mine, and if it was, I wouldn't own up to it. It may be immodest, but I think I'm a better writer than that. For one thing, I try not to insult the intelligence of my readers. For another, I don't lie to them about what they'll find in my work. I also have too much respect for my characters to completely rewrite them so I can shoehorn them into some old plot I had lying around that was just a rip off of _Quatermass_anyway. Honestly, I believe RTD is a better writer than that, too, but for some reason he got so invested in his idea for _CoE_ that he couldn't see how really bad and full of holes it was. Then he got rude, defensive, and stroppy when people pointed out that it was far from his best work.

Sadly, I don't own _Torchwood_ either. If I did, it wouldn't be broken now.

**_It Just Doesn't Make Sense: Chapter Five_**

_Warming Up_

The Doctor caught Jack's gaze and the two exchanged businesslike nods. "Spread out everyone," Jack barked. As the group moved reluctantly, still preferring the safety of the herd, he repeated cajolingly, "Spread out."

They fanned out, forming a semicircle around the TRD with Stephen at the centre opposite the creature. Trusty waved his hands in the air in parody of a man in distress and warbled, "Oooooohhhhh, am I supposed to be afraid now?"

"Last chance," the Doctor said gravely. "Come quietly or we will destroy you."

Trusty laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

The Doctor turned to Jack again, his expression full of compassion. He knew his sometimes companion did not relish taking lives, but he also knew that Jack had the mettle to do what had to be done. More importantly, it was Jack who had these people's trust, and they were the key to destroying the TRD.

Jack looked round the group, making eye contact with each of them in turn. Ianto, Gwen, Agent Johnson, and Dr. Patanjali had signed up for this. The others had been sucked into it by their association with him, but over the past few days they had each proved they were capable of handling the task before them. Still when his gaze rested on Stephen, it broke his heart. How could he ask his little grandson to participate in the killing of another sentient being?

Jack looked at the Doctor once more, saw the pain and compassion in those deep brown eyes, and knew the Time Lord shared his concern. But he also knew, because they had discussed it while the TARDIS was in the Vortex, that Stephen was necessary to the plan. Children, because they were unlimited by the pain of experience, were naturally more imaginative than adults and the boy would serve to magnify the efforts of the others. The Doctor had assured Jack that the child would suffer no physical or psychological injury from being used in this manner, aside from whatever trauma he experienced watching the TRD die, but given recent events, the idea still sickened Jack.

Knowing they had to do this to save the world, Jack took a deep breath and said, "All right, people. You know what to do."

For a moment, they all looked nervously at one another. Then Rhys began.

"I'm transport manager for Harwood's Haulage, yeah? So what was I doing driving a bloody lorry during the morning rush when I should have been at the office an hour earlier . . . um . . . managing things?"

"Did one of your drivers call in sick?" Andy asked. "Maybe you had to take his run."

"No," Rhys told him. "We've a list of men we keep on-call for such emergencies. We can always find a substitute. With the unemployment in Wales, everybody wants a lead on a good job and one of the best ways of a lorry driver getting one is to be ready to go whenever a company calls him for a day job."

"Perhaps in the current economic crisis they've had to let some drivers go and they put you back on the road," Ianto said.

"That almost makes sense," Rhys agreed. "But even if that were the case, I'd have to take one of the afternoon runs. It takes me until at least one o'clock to get everyone squared away and on the road. Also, in that situation, it would be more economical for them to make me part-time and then hire a part-time driver. Besides, old man Harwood is quite proud of the fact that he's managed to keep all of his people employed despite the slow economy."

"Did they give you a company car?" Gwen asked.

Rhys snorted with laughter. "Not very likely, love, and if they had, it would have been a car and not a bloody lorry."

When the discussion of Rhys's concerns died out, Rupesh spoke up. "I work in A&E, and would you believe all of the injured children we had coming in were in RTAs? The rest of them just worried their parents."

"What's so odd about that?" Lois asked. "A kid stops in the middle of the road, he gets hit by a car. Makes sense to me."

"Yeah," Rupesh agreed. "But if he freezes in midair while jumping off a swing, he sprains his ankle, or his knee, or breaks a leg. If he freezes while riding his bike, he gets some nasty lacerations. If he freezes while catching a ball, he breaks his nose. We didn't see any of that."

"Maybe there was some kind of protective influence," Alice suggested.

"But then why were children hit by cars, Mummy?" Stephen asked.

"That's a good question, Stephen," Jack encouraged him, despite a glare from Alice. Shrugging at his daughter, he said, "Well, really, if they could protect all the kids who were playing, why couldn't they extend that protection to the ones crossing the street? Besides, are they really going to say, 'Ooops, mustn't let them get hurt because nobody wants a broken child in his crack pipe'? I don't think so."

Alice glared at Jack again. Jack shrugged back. Ianto muttered something about it being no wonder Alice had daddy issues.

"Oh, that's irrelevant," the TRD grumbled. "They're just children. You're all getting hysterical over nothing." Everyone scowled at the creature, but Trusty just gloated.

"Ok, my go," Jack said, taking charge again. "I have a lot of questions, but for now I'll focus on the big ones."

"Oh, goody," the TRD said mockingly. "Let's hear them."

Jack scowled at the alien, then nodded. "All right, how about this, then? When I got shot _in a hospital_ and woke up beside a dead doctor, why didn't I do any investigation at the scene?"

"Maybe you thought it was just wrong place, wrong time, figured they were after Dr. Patanjali and you were just in their way?" Rhiannon said.

Jack shook his head. "I could see that if no one knew I was immortal and I was just trying to keep a low profile," he said. "But I have been the _de facto_ head of a supposedly top-secret alien-hunting agency for ten years now, and, no offense, Rupesh, but as far as I knew at the time, you were a nobody. Getting shot in a hospital is an uncommon occurrence, even in A&E where they get all the crazies, let alone the morgue where most of the population is dead. _Me_ getting shot in a hospital would seem to indicate that something was up."

"Perhaps you planned to start your investigation back at the HUB, sir," Ianto offered.

"Without the body and without looking for any evidence at the scene? Not our SOP, Yan," Jack said. "Besides, there are people out there, _powerful people,_ who don't like me and know I can't die. I should have immediately suspected one of them was behind it and asked myself what they hoped to accomplish by shooting me. I never considered who they might be targeting and why until I was back in the Hub and it was too late."

"Well, I suppose now you know we planted a bomb with the intention of killing you and your team and destroying your base," Johnson offered in such an offhand tone that everyone just stared at her. "What?" she said. "A, I was only following orders; and B, it was all a creation of that thing's imagination."

The TRD chuckled when everyone's gaze shifted to him. "I'm bloody brilliant, aren't I?" he gloated.

"Not really," Jack said, causing him to frown. "Because that lame little plot device opens up a whole new can of worms."

"Oh, please, _do_ tell," Trusty urged.

TBC

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	6. The First Wave

**Disclaimer:** If you've been reading these, you know by now that _Children of Earth _is **not** mine and I wouldn't touch it with with a ten-foot pole except for the fact that it's necessary to clean up the mess that CoE made of _Torchwood._ Sadly, _Torchwood _isn't mine, either. If it were, I wouldn't have let it play with those nasty _Children of Earth._

**_It Just Doesn't Make Sense: Chapter Six_**

_The First Wave_

Rising to the TRDs challenge, Jack asked, If I went to the hospital to grab a kid, and didnt get one there, why didnt I snatch one off the street on the way back to the Hub?

Maybe you didnt want to frighten some little mite by kidnapping him, Rhys suggested.

Jack gave him a glare that would have peeled paint. Ive done worse, he said in a tone that implied he wasnt proud of himself but he wouldnt apologize. Much worse.

Hearing the pain behind the steel in Jacks voice, they were all quiet for a moment. Gwen, of course, was the first to speak. Maybe there werent any children on their own, she suggested.

There are always kids skipping school, Andy said. You know that.

Maybe he just didnt see any of them, Gwen insisted.

He could have taken one with a parent, Agent Johnson suggested.

Like any mum or dad is just going to get into strangers car with a child, Alice said in shock.

Besides, he was driving a two-seater, Ianto added.

Which has a trunk, Jack reminded him. I could have sedated them both and stuffed one of them in there.

Sedated them? With what? Gwen demanded. All of our gear was in the SUV! She gave Ianto an accusing look but said nothing more. That was a separate argument.

I was just in a hospital! Jack insisted. I could have stolen some sedative there.

If you had known youd need it, Gwen threw back at him.

The discussion was getting heated now, and the TRD was loving every minute of it. Face it, you puny earthlings, he sneered. You cant hurt me and your petty arguments are only making me stronger. Soon I will be all-powerful, and all the sentient beings on the planet will be my playthings. From there, Ill take over the galaxy, and then the entire universe is mine!

Throwing back his head, he laughed maniacally once again. For some reason, that laugh was more frightening than anything that had happened in the past few days. It was the sound of madness.

Dont be afraid! the Doctor encouraged them. Thats just hubris talking.

Mummy, whos Hubris? Stephen asked.

Shh, Alice hushed him.

Just keep going, the Doctor insisted. He hasnt even begun to see what you lot can do when you put your minds to something. You _can_ stop him. Just dont give up.

Ok, tell me this, people, when I woke up in the hospital, there was a bomb the size of a grapefruit in my gut, Jack said. Why didnt I feel it?

Oh, Jack, women carry tumours like that around all the time and never notice until they start compressing other organs and making them sick, Gwen said as if the answer should be perfectly obvious.

But those tumours are slow-growing and made of soft tissue, Jack said. This thing appeared instantly and was made of metal and explosives. Not to mention it was sitting right on my bladder. I should have remembered that feeling from the last time was pregnant.

Pregnant? everyone gasped, in unison again, which caused the Doctor to roll his eyes.

Another story for another time, Jack insisted. Focus people.

Maybe you were just too worried about everything else to notice it at the time, Gwen suggested.

Yeah? Tell him that when youre about three months along and cant even draw water to fill the kettle without having to piss like a racehorse, Rhiannon told her.

What she said, Jack agreed. And after that disaster with Gray, why didnt we have sensors to detect it the moment I entered the Hub? Jack demanded.

Too busy? Lois suggested.

Bollocks! Jack replied.

Isnt it! Isnt it! Clem rasped, getting excited.

And with a one-mile blast radius, how come none of the windows round the Plass were broken? Jack asked.

Contained underground? Rhys suggested.

It would have shaken the ground like an earthquake, silly, Stephen told him. It should have broken whole buildings.

The TRD gasped and everyone looked from him to Stephen to the Doctor. Keep going, keep going, the Doctor urged. Hes starting to feel it.

While the others bickered about the lack of a secondary base, back up vehicles, emergency stashes of tech, and how incompetent sharpshooters could ever get a job with a secret government strike team, the Doctor turned to the TRD.

Arent you? he asked. Starting to feel it? Too much of a good thing really is bad for you. It isnt wise for a being that feeds on energy to be gluttonous.

Oh, _puh-lease_, Trusty sneered, even as he staggered back against the shelves for support. As if their puny little minds could do me any harm.

Youve barely begun to see what they can do, the Doctor warned him. Its not too late to surrender and come with me.

Never!

Dont be a fool! the Doctor pleaded.

Whos the fool? Theyre only making me more powerful, Trusty insisted.

Theyll generate more thought energy than you can manage, the Doctor said. Dont take that risk. I can save you or let them destroy you, but I will not let you conquer this world.

Then youll have to let them kill me, if they can, because I like it here, and I dont plan on leaving for the foreseeable future.

The Doctor took a deep breath, and meeting the TRD with the glare of the Oncoming Storm, he said threateningly, Then so be it.

TBC


	7. The Second Wave

**Disclaimer: **_Children of Earth_ isn't mine, and if it was, the cat would probably bury it. If you aren't a cat's person, just think _what_ cats bury and _where_ and you will know why that was an attempt to be funny. Whether it actually was funny is rather a matter of taste, just like whether CoE was any good or not. It's a pity the head writer's dubious taste in drama favoured blowing things and people to bits, killing beloved characters in stupid ways, killing Jack in as many ways as possible, making everyone act so out of character that it seemed as if the whole debacle had been overlaid with a badly written crossover of _Quatermass_and_ Invasion of the Body Snatchers_, and Mary Sue Cooper getting her happily ever after, again, so that she can go on to star in _Excalibur_ under the guise of _Torchwood._

**_It Just Doesn't Make Sense: Chapter Seven_**

_The Second Wave_

"My turn, is it?" Ianto asked, and when everyone turned to him, he said, "I don't understand why the government would want to blow up the Hub. If anyone had the technology to stop the 456 it was us."

"I'm not sure that counts as an inconsistency," Gwen replied. "Seriously, why does the government do anything? Seems like the last few years we've been voting for the lesser of two evils."

"They thought Captain Harkness's immortality was connected to the Rift," Agent Johnson explained.

"Well, that's a load of . . . nonsense," Jack said when Alice cleared her throat and looked significantly in Stephen's direction.

"Isn't it! Isn't it!" Clem hissed.

"Yeah, it is! Torchwood has records of me dying at Ellis Island twenty or thirty years before I was coerced into working for them," Jack explained. "So, whoever told you that either didn't do their homework very well or was lying to you."

"Well, whatever the reason, the Rift was there before the Hub," Ianto pointed out. "So blowing the Hub up wouldn't have helped with that, and blowing up the Rift manipulator should have torn the Rift wide open. Why didn't we have Weevils and Hoixes and Roman soldiers and Black Plague victims running amuck?"

"Is it possible that the explosion closed the Rift?" Rhys asked.

"No," Jack told him. "The Rift is still active more than a hundred years in the future. I can't tell you how I know that, but I do."

"Could the 456 have suppressed it?" Rupesh asked.

"Perhaps they could have," Jack agreed. "But for what reason? The chaos it should have created would have worked to their advantage."

"Maybe everyone was so freaked out over what was happening to the kids that they didn't notice a few aliens wandering about," Alice suggested.

"Not a chance," Andy told her. "One thing I've learned in the police, when people are already worried, they become more wary of their environments. They were calling us about sickly-looking pigeons, barking dogs, and cars that wouldn't start, claiming it was the work of aliens. A real creature from another world would have sent them into hysterics."

"Then perhaps this Rift just wasn't active at the time," Lois suggested.

Ianto smiled indulgently. "It's always active. It seems to spew out an alien every time someone in Cardiff sneezes. An explosion like that would have made it worse."

"Do they really think any of that matters?" Trusty asked the Doctor, still not the least bit concerned despite the blue haze that was starting to form around him.

"Of course they do," the Doctor told him. "It's their reality your ludicrous fantasy fouled up, and they want it put right again." Watching the TRD loosen his tie and unbutton his collar, he said, "You know, it's still not too late to surrender."

"Why should I?" the creature demanded. "They'll run out of questions soon."

"You won't be the first to die because you underestimated the abilities and persistence of humans," the Doctor said. "I really am sorry."

The others had been arguing about the properties of concrete and the ability of construction equipment to outrun military helicopters. Now their attention had turned to personnel and security issues.

"How is it that Jack, the intergalactic conman, and Ianto, the reformed juvenile delinquent needed me to teach them how to steal?" Gwen asked.

"Maybe they were out of practice?" Lois suggested.

"It's like riding a bicycle," Jack told her. "You never forget."

"An attempt to make you feel useful?" Andy offered.

"While Gwen may sometimes think the world revolves around her, Jack and I do not. We were too busy trying to save the world to humour her like a selfish child," Ianto said. "Besides, she'd already been more useful in the past two days than she had been in the two previous years, which opens up questions of its own, like how she suddenly became so bloody competent and professional."

"That could be maternal instinct," Gwen suggested hopefully. "A mama bear protecting her cubs."

"Except you didn't know you were pregnant until just before I discovered the bomb," Jack pointed out.

Gwen shrugged. "Hormones?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "This is why Torchwood shouldn't do maternity leave," he told Jack. "She's going to start blaming her bloody hormones every time she says something tactless, barges in on us without knocking, gets stroppy with you, or behaves like a spoilt child."

"You're missing the point, Yan," Jack said with a grin. "Maternity _leave._ As in we'll have the Hub to ourselves." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Ianto grinned despite the faint blush tinting his cheeks.

"Focus, gentlemen," the Doctor warned in a sing-song tone.

Ianto nodded in response to both the Doctor and Jack and asked, "And why wasn't I driving my own car when I went to visit Rhi? Torchwood has a clear policy on using company property for personal activities." Remembering the contacts, which had admittedly come in handy, he still shot Gwen and Rhys a glare for the breach of policy.

"Was your car in the shop?" Alice asked.

"No."

"Low on petrol?" Stephen asked.

Rhiannon laughed. "He never lets it go below half a tank, love," she said. "He's a bit odd like that, my brother. Overcautious, you might say."

Scowling at his sister, Ianto said, "I just can't see the point in risking a complication that can so easily be avoided. Never know when you might have to make a long drive in a short amount of time, but if you can avoid stopping to refuel, that can only be a good thing."

"Maybe you had an unexpected flat tyre," Rupesh suggested.

"Which I would have changed," Ianto replied.

"Unless the spare was flat, too," Gwen pointed out.

Ianto just stared at her for so long that the room became uncomfortable. Finally, Gwen seemed to shrink in on herself slightly and said, "But you . . . wouldn't let that happen. S-sorry, Ianto. I'm sorry. Really. I'm s-sorry."

Ianto accepted her apology with a curt nod, but now he was becoming indignant over how sloppy and unprepared he had been made to look the past few days. "So, if we accept as given that there was some reason for me to be driving the SUV to visit my sister, how did I lose the bloody thing?"

"It was them chavs down the street took it," Rhi reminded him.

Gwen darted a glance at Alice and mouthed the word 'bloody' as if expecting her to speak up about it.

"Nobody cares, love," Alice replied in a whisper. "In case you haven't noticed, we've more pressing matters to attend to than a few naughty words my son has already heard."

From behind his mother, Stephen stuck out his tongue. Gwen pulled a rude face in response, which earned her a glare from Alice who hadn't seen hat Steven had done and would have thought Gwen childish to retaliate anyway.

"Yes, I know it was the chavs," Ianto told his sister. "The question is, how? Those doors were triple deadlocked, generations ahead of current technology. They should not have been able to get in."

"Maybe you forgot to lock it," Andy suggested, and getting a withering glare from Ianto decided, "Maybe not."

"Even if I had left it open, they shouldn't have been able to hot-wire it," Ianto said. "Tosh took care of that after our trip to the Brecon Beacons. And even if they did manage to hotwire it, I should have been able to track it."

"Maybe they disabled the tracking device?" Rhys suggested.

"Not possible, but if they had, I can still lock on to the alien tech we use with my PDA," he explained, growing more agitated by the moment, "_and_ _don't bloody tell me I didn't have my PDA on me_!"

"Well maybe" Gwen began, and then her jaw snapped shut, making it clear to everyone that she had been about to suggest just that.

Chuckling, Trusty told the doctor, "That one seems a bit excited, doesn't he?"

"He doesn't tolerate chaos and confusion well," the Doctor responded, watching the young man through the bluish-white mist that was beginning to swirl gently about the room. "You should fear him."

"What? One puny human?"

"You'd be amazed what they are capable of doing if you ever bothered to pay attention," the Doctor told him. Looking the creature over from head to toe, he said, "You're starting to perspire. Are you sure you don't want to change your mind?"

Trusty wiped his face with a handkerchief and said, "I just need to call the building superintendent. He was supposed to have the air conditioner serviced before I moved in, and he obviously didn't."

The Doctor shook his head sadly. "Living in denial for too long can kill you."

TBC

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	8. Full Scale Assault

**Disclaimer:** You already know CoE isn't mine. If it were, I would have left ALL of it on the cutting room floor.

**Author's Note: **Apologies for the long delay in posting. Mother Nature has been having hot flashes around here lately, and there were some spring gardening chores I _had_ to get done before things grew too much. A week of sunny days with highs in the 80s F (27C-32C) with two record highs suddenly has us a month ahead of schedule, but I barely got everything done, even transplanting the azalea, which was in full bloom two days later. Anyway, barring more freakishly beautiful weather, I should be back to posting every two or three days until the whole fic is posted.

**_Chapter Eight_**

_Full-Scale Assault_

At a signal from Jack, the group broke up into small teams of two and three people. The idea was to generate more thought energy by tackling several issues at once.

Lois fretted about the weak password used by Bridget Spears, the fact that the same password got her into everything on the Home Office's network, how readily Miss Spears wrote it down on a sticky note and gave it to a brand new temp to post it on her monitor at a public work station, and how cavalier she was about sending out an 'order to kill' under her own username instead of telling her boss to be a man and do it himself if he really thought cold-blooded murder was the right action.

Agent Johnson tried to answer Lois's questions and then asked how it happened that when John Frobisher shot his family and himself in his own home and without using a silencer rather than turn his children over to the government to be 'vaccinated,' the media, who were there to record the event to show the public that it was safe, never went into the house to investigate when he didn't come out again and never filed a single report on the incident. Try as she might, Lois couldn't explain how nobody noticed the sound of gunshots coming from the home of the Permanent Secretary to the Home Office, the man who had been the public face of Earth's negotiations with the 456.

"Mummy," Stephen said.

Jack and Ianto argued about the apparent regression of their relationship, Ianto's sudden fixation on the word 'couple,' and his constant, uncharacteristic need for reassurance that he and Jack were one, and where the hell Martha Jones could have been honeymooning that she never got wind of what was going on in the rest of the world, never got called back to duty by UNIT, and never saw a single child acting strangely, or if she did, never took the initiative to check it out. They also discussed trivial things such as where Ianto had managed to find a vintage WWII RAF greatcoat without being spotted by Johnson's mercenaries and how Jack could pass up the opportunity to shag Ianto for Rhys's bloody beans.

Gwen, Rhys, Andy, and Clem rattled on about all sorts of things, like why Andy led Johnson straight to Rhys and Gwen's flat rather than pretending to be confused about the street numbers when he hadn't been by their place in a couple of years, how Gwen could shoot out all four tires on a moving vehicle in the dark and still not get her knickers in the laundry basket more than half the time, how Clem could smell that Ianto was 'queer' and Gwen was pregnant but didn't seem to recognize Jack's smell on any of them until he saw him, how Rhys could be so thick as to miss all the signals that Jack and Ianto needed some alone time, how Jack could pass up the opportunity to shag Ianto rather than tell Rhys what to do with his bloody beans, and why, in the end, Andy would care if Ianto was gay.

"Mummy?" Stephen repeated, this time tugging on Alice's sleeve.

Rupesh and Doctor shared their theories on how a virus could be released from an airtight tank and kill instantly without causing fever, pain, sweating, excess mucus production, airway inflammation, nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea, or haemorrhaging from any of several body orifices. Then their conversation moved on to how quickly the virus went inert, or how easily it was killed with standard cleaning chemicals, making it possible for people to enter Thames House and the facility where the unrefrigerated bodies were being stored just hours later with no need for hazmat suits or specialized cleanup procedures.

Alice and Rhiannon discussed the universal agreement of all the countries around the world, even the ones with no stable government in power to make the decision to follow the UK's lead in handing over their children. Then they wondered why PM Green's administration bothered to cover up the stupid mistakes of an administration that had passed out of power over forty years ago when it would have been so much easier for them to release the details, say, "We're sorry, but we didn't make this mess," and publicly ask the United Nations and UNIT for help.

"Mummy!" the little boy shouted impatiently. "I have a question, too! Why do you make me call your daddy 'Uncle Jack' instead of 'Grandpa'?"

Naturally, everyone heard the shrill little voice, and they all stopped talking and turned to look at him. The little boy was surrounded by a faint neon glow of energy and his fair hair stood out from his head like dandelion fluff. Wide-eyed with shock, Alice looked at Jack, who looked at the Doctor with abject fear.

"He'll be all right, Jack," the Time Lord assured them. "You just have to trust me and let this happen."

"He better be," the captain said threateningly.

Dropping to her knees before her son, Alice said, "I-I didn't think you'd understand. He's still so young and I'm getting older." The energy around the boy made the fine hairs on her arms stand up and tingle like gooseflesh, and she had to suppress the urge to shiver.

"But calling him Uncle didn't stop me noticing that," Stephen said petulantly.

"No, I suppose it didn't," Alice agreed fondly. "I was silly not to account for you being such a clever boy, wasn't I?"

"So, why'd you lie to me?' Stephen asked. "Why'd you make him lie?"

Alice gave her son a sad look and said, "I just wanted to protect you." She put her hands on her son's thin shoulders and said, "Your granddad has a dangerous job, I thought it was best to keep him away from you."

Stephen frowned. "But it didn't make me love him any less. It only made me wonder why you would lie to me."

"I didn't know you knew," Alice said softly.

"I remember you and him talking about it when I was really little," Stephen said. "You thought I was stupid then, too, I guess."

"Oh, Stephen, I have never, ever thought you were stupid, my beautiful boy," Alice assured him. "I just thought you were too young to understand or care about what grownups argued over."

"And you never thought we would be safer to have Grandpa close by, watching over us?" he asked.

Alice looked hopefully at Jack, who was reeling from being called Grandpa for the first time. Ianto had to nudge him gently in the boy's direction. Finally crossing the room, Jack hoisted his grandson into his arms. The energy surrounding Stephen made his woollen greatcoat crackle and pop even under the insulating rubber of his Mackintosh. Tweaking the child's nose affectionately, he said, "Maybe your mum did the right thing, Stephen. Trouble seems to follow me, so maybe it was safer not having me hanging around."

Stephen gave him a sceptical look and then glanced at the TRD. A delicate umbilical of blue-tinged white energy had formed between the child and the greedy alien. Squinting at the glowing creature, he asked, "Do you still think that now?"

Jack followed his grandson's gaze. "I . . . I don't know anymore," he gasped.

"We almost have it!" the Doctor encouraged his team of companions. "Come on, people! Just a little more. I _know _you can do it! You're all so brilliant! _Think!_ There has to be something more. Anything. _Don't give up now_!"

TBC

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	9. Critical Mass

**Disclaimer: **CoE is not mine. I would be embarrassed if it was.  
**Author's Note: **Apologies for all the overwrought melodrama, but a good parody mimics the original even as it mocks it.

**_Chapter Nine_**

_Critical Mass_

The group exchanged nervous glances. They hadn't run out of ideas, but the two topics that remained were things they didn't want to talk about, horrible things and uncomfortable truths. The air in the room was stirring slightly, ruffling their hair and making the leaves on the houseplants sway, and a bluish aura had begun to form around Stephen and Jack. Even those who didn't fully understand the battle they were fighting knew it would soon be over.

And so, apparently, did the TRD. "I told you they couldn't do it," he cackled with glee. "I'll just absorb all this energy at my leisure, and by the end of fall sweeps, I'll be the most powerful television writer in Hollywood. It will be a meteoric rise to fame."

Again, the Doctor's companions shared an anxious look. Then Alice's gaze rested on her son and her father, and her eyes grew cold with fury. This monster had done its worst to take them both from her, and the attack on her family would not go unanswered.

"Not bloody likely!" she shouted at the vile creature.

Gwen stamped her foot and groaned at the profanity, but she was universally ignored.

"We aren't finished yet!" Alice snarled. Wheeling about, she asked Jack, "Dad, why was Stephen needed to fight the aliens? I still don't understand that."

"I . . . He . . . W-we needed something to focus the signal," Jack stammered, nearly in tears. The event may not have been real, but the memory still broke his heart.

Gesturing toward Agent Johnson, she growled, "We had Sarah Bloody Connor on our side! Didn't you think she might have been able to get us access to a military satellite?"

By now, Gwen had gone into a full-on sulk, but not even Rhys had noticed.

"But the 456 used children to transmit," Jack tried to explain, despite how lame it sounded to his own ears.

"Not last time," Johnson reminded him. "Once you figured out the signal to send, my team could have hijacked the BBC and used all the transmitters at their disposal."

Jack jerked his chin in the direction of the TRD. "Except that thing had control of the BBC."

"We didn't know that at the time," Alice said. "And if the events of the past week were just a figment of its twisted imagination, who's to say it didn't just imagine itself running the network? We should have at least tried it."

"You're right," Jack nearly sobbed, his voice full of grief and guilt. "I'm sorry."

By this time umbilical between Stephen and Trusty had grown to the thickness of a man's arm, and the free energy in the room was a whirling, glowing, blue-white mass above Jack and Stephen. It was spinning clockwise, the Doctor noticed, in direct contradiction to the Coriolis Effect yet another inconsistency produced by the TRD. The currents it created in the air were whipping around bits of packing material and paperwork. Rhys ducked as a small cardboard box soared over his head. Jack turned to shield Stephen from a large ball of wadded up paper. The TRD was sweating and swaying on his feet, but still grinning gleefully at the energy stream drilling into his chest from the boy.

"Jack!" the Doctor shouted to be heard above the wind. "You need to put him down!"

"But Doctor, he's just a child," Jack objected.

"We talked about this, Jack," the Doctor reasoned with his former companion. "You have to let him do it on his own."

"Let me do it instead," Jack pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Jack, you know that's not possible," the Doctor yelled. "He's a brilliant child with an active imagination unspoilt by failure, defeat, regret, overused plot devices, tired tropes, and clichs. It has to be him! The rest of us all have too much baggage. You have to put him down. You're interfering with the transfer of energy."

"Doctor, please!" Jack begged.

"Jack, put him down _now_!" the Time Lord insisted.

Jack swivelled his head, searching for some place to run, to hide his grandson, to protect him from what was happening, but Stephen cupped his face in his tiny hands and forced Jack to meet his gaze.

In his high-pitched child's voice, he said, "It's ok, Grandpa. I can do this."

His expression a mask of anguish, Jack looked into the boy's eyes. "Are you sure?"

Stephen smiled. "Yep."

Taking a deep breath, Jack looked at the Doctor, who gave him a sombre nod. Jack returned it, and rather shakily, placed Stephen back down on the floor and stepped back. When he was about ten feet from his grandson, a dancing, wiggling, finger of energy reached tentatively down from the swirling mass above their heads. Stephen giggled as he watched it come closer. It touched his forehead, and in the blink of an eye, he was sheathed in a column of white light. The beam joining him to the TRD swelled to nearly a foot in diameter and the hum of the energy transfer could be heard above the roaring wind. Stephen's little body went rigid, his head thrown back and his arms stiff at his sides, a look of bliss on his cherubic face.

"No! My baby!" Alice screamed, and rushed toward him, but Jack caught her round the waist and they both collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap.

"He will be all right," the Doctor insisted. Looking round at the others, he shouted, "Let's finish this!"

Once again, the others looked worriedly from one to another. "Quickly!" the Doctor yelled. "You _must_ finish it. If you don't he may well become unstoppable."

Hearing the urgency in the Doctor's voice, Jack looked up, his face bathed in tears and screamed, "_Do it!_"

TBC


	10. The Set Up

**Disclaimer: **CoE isn't mine, thank heavens for that. Torchwood isn't, either, more's the pity.  
**Author's note:** This is Ianto's chapter. I'm afraid I don't directly address some of the questions a lot of you were asking. Please don't throw rotten fruit at me.

**_Chapter Ten_**

_The Set Up_

Ianto looked at Jack and knew what he had to do. His questions would only cause his lover grief, but if he didn't speak now, the consequences of his silence would be so much worse. Trying to convey a world of compassion and forgiveness with just a look, he finally asked the questions that had been lingering between him and Jack since the Doctor had reunited them.

"So, Jack and I went to face the alien," he began tentatively. "Knowing its species had a history of using biological warfare, we just stormed into Thames House, no plan, no protective gear, just a couple of handguns between us, didn't even bother to evacuate the building."

"Maybe you expected the people who were in there to have sense enough to get themselves out," Rupesh suggested.

Ianto gave a trademark eye roll. "Bureaucrats and politicians. Best and brightest among us. Of course that's it, because along with their powerful instinct for self-preservation, they're just oozing with practicality and common sense. No offense, Lois."

"None taken," she replied with a smile. "I'm just a secretary."

Where others might have been wounded by Ianto's sarcasm, Rupesh only smirked and said, "You know, half of that statement is true. PM Green was more than happy to let the Americans take charge. Kept his hands clean, he did."

"Right up until he got caught gloating about it on camera," Lois pointed out.

"So, we charged up to the thirteenth floor, Jack and I, to confront the 456, and what do we do? Bloody shout at it! That was the whole plan! To shout at it! It's ludicrous!"

"Isn't it! Isn't it!" Clem agreed

"Maybe you weren't expecting it to call your bluff," Rhys suggested.

"We were told it was responsible for the 1918 influenza pandemic," Ianto reminded him. "Why on earth would we try bluffing? In fact, why did we confront it at all unless we had some plan to get rid of it? Of course, I know we improvise a lot but that's the nature of the job. Dealing with the flotsam and jetsam of the universe is like a box of bloody chocolates you never know what you're going to get but whenever possible, we do have a plan."

"Were you pressed for time?" Andy asked.

"We're _always_ pressed for time," Ianto told him. "But at that point, we still had some twenty-four hours until the deadline. In Torchwood, that's practically forever. Besides, that's all the more reason to be looking for a real solution rather than trying to pull some clever trick out of our arses!"

Gwen gave a rude snort and muttered an inappropriate comment about their arses that was supposed to be funny. When nobody else laughed, she regrouped and said, "But at that point, we had what? A couple of laptops, Lois wearing the contacts, and some video of politicians behaving like the snakes everybody knows they are," Gwen said. "Even if we had known what to do, we lacked the technology to make it happen."

"Then we should have used the leverage that video gave us to get access to a UNIT facility where they would have had the technology to develop a solution in time to implement it without anyone getting hurt," Ianto insisted. "But we didn't do that, we just charged in and tried shouting at them. Now, knowing they used biological weapons, why didn't I stop to take a gas mask off one of the UNIT soldiers before going into the audience chamber and pissing it off?"

"Perhaps they didn't have gas masks?" suggested Alice.

"They should have become standard equipment after that Sontaran business with the ATMOS awhile back." Ianto insisted. "The cameraman who went into the chamber had a bloody hazmat suit. Surely if the UNIT soldiers didn't have gas masks, they must have had a spare hazmat suit in one of their vans outside. Where was that gear when Torchwood decided to intervene, and why did I make no effort to acquire any of it?"

"Maybe your worry for your sister and her kids drove you to do something rash," Andy mused.

Ianto crossed his arms over his chest and gave the PC a haughty look. "I. Don't. Do. Rash."

"That's true," Gwen agreed helpfully, for a change. "In the Beacons, when we were all cursing Owen for losing the SUV, he had his PDA out tracking it, and when Owen and Tosh were freaking out after Jack came back to life the day we opened the Rift, he helped me get Jack out of the Hub, _and_ remembered to get that bloody greatcoat on the way. When Jack came back from gallivanting about with the Doctor only to disappear five minutes later, the rest of us stood around complaining while Ianto hailed a taxi."

"Remember the meat-packing plant?" Rhys said. "Hands bound behind his back, gun to his neck and he just stands there quietly working away at the ropes, until he can get free and disarm the guy."

"That's my brother," Rhiannon said proudly. "Always calm, always thinking."

"Well, maybe not always," Ianto admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed by the glowing tone the others were using in reference to him, "but knowing what we did about the 456, there is no way in hell I would have forgotten a bloody gas mask!"

"You know, that raises another question," Lois said, thoughtfully. "Just how did Mr. Dekker survive?"

"Maybe he's just very fit," Rupesh suggested.

Lois gave an inelegant snort. "He's an electronics geek who works in the basement of Thames House. For the past forty-four years he has been studying the frequency the 456 used to broadcast. A cockroach gets more exercise, sunlight, and fresh air."

"Has a better personality, too," Johnson quipped. "UNIT found him in his office wearing a hazmat suit," she continued as if it should be all the answer Lois needed.

"But how did he get there from the thirteenth floor?" Lois asked. "He must be nearing seventy, and fit or not, I doubt even you could make that trek, fighting a frightened mob and without taking a breath, Agent Johnson."

"Perhaps he managed to outrun the virus?" Gwen suggested. Getting nothing but eye rolls and scowls, she said, "It's just a thought."

"Well, you can do better than that!" the TRD shouted, mocking, challenging, and threatening them all at the same time. By now the creature was flushed and panting, his shirt was drenched with perspiration and sticking to his body and droplets of sweat dripped from his hair and chin; but like all megalomaniacs, he was unable to recognize that he was failing. He was teetering at the brink of destruction and just the tiniest nudge would send him over the precipice to oblivion.

"I need more!" he demanded. "More! Now! I want to rule the world! Dominate the galaxy! Subjugate the universe!"

"Give him what he wants!" the Doctor encouraged them over the now howling wind. "Stephen is filtering the energy, regulating the flow just as I said he would so the TRD can't absorb it as quickly as you generate it. If you stop now, this thing will only grow more powerful. You have to give it just a little bit more, enough to overload the buffer so it all hits him at once. That's the only way to short circuit this monster. You _must_ give him more!"

The team just looked at each other. Then a few of them pulled lists out of the pockets of their Mackintoshes. One after another they paled until all of them wore the same horrified expression.

They were fresh out of ideas.

TBC

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	11. The Coup de Grace

**Disclaimer:** CoE is not mine. It was just so bad I had to borrow the characters to make fun of it.

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry, my darlings. I could find no other way to defeat the TRD. Gwen Bloody Cooper saves the world. Again. But at least this story addresses the biggest question that has been hanging over CoE and _Torchwood _itself since "Day One," albeit in a typically Gwen-centric sort of way.

**_Chapter Eleven_**

_The Coup de Grace_

"No!" the Doctor fairly screamed when he realized what was happening. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Surely there must be something else, one other thing that made one of you ask why, or how. Something else that didn't make sense! Think, you stupid apes! Think!"

"Oi!" Gwen objected. "Who are you calling stupid? You've no right . . ."

"Gwen, he's the Doctor!" Ianto roared angrily. "Compared to him we are stupid. If you had bothered to read the Torchwood manual I gave you, you would know that. Now stop asking stupid questions and try to come up with something useful!"

As he had been yelling at Gwen, Ianto didn't hear the slight change in pitch of the wind and the hum of the energy, but the Doctor did, and he started to grin maniacally. "No, Mrs. Williams, don't stop," he said. "Ask all the stupid questions you can think of. You're terribly good at it, and you're bound to hit on something!"

Wide-eyed with excitement, Gwen nodded and began blurting questions. "Why is the sky blue? What makes the grass green? How come it always gets colder in winter? Why do they say a duck's quack doesn't echo? Why does Rhys put up with me?"

The answers came as fast as the questions.

"Light refraction off the water droplets in the atmosphere."

"Chlorophyll."

"The earth is tilted on its axis."

"To make people like you Google it."

"Well, it ain't your bloody cooking, love."

Suddenly, Gwen fell silent. Then she started to smile. The smile turned into a broad infectious grin. Soon they were all beaming and no one was quite sure why.

"I've got it," she said. "I've really bloody got it."

"Well, come on then," Rhys demanded. "Ask the question."

"All right. I'm your typical 'girl next door,' yeah? Grew up in a stable home, had a close, loving relationship with both my parents." She turned a loving smile on Rhys and said, "I'm no fashion model, but I'm not exactly dog meat either. Met a gorgeous boy at uni, fell in love, and have been with him ever since. We're still newlyweds, shopping for a house, and we're expecting our first baby." This drew 'awws' from the women, and a delighted little sound from Rhys. "I've got fantastic friends," she said, indicating Andy, Jack, and Ianto, "and a bloody amazing job, yeah?"

She waited until she got nods all around, before she continued.

"I am also the one at Torchwood who first started putting together that something weird was going on with the kids. I'm the one who found Clem, our link to what happened in the past. After the Hub blew up, I evacuated my husband before the government mercenaries showed up at our flat, managed to locate Jack independently from Ianto, and helped Ianto to get him out of that holding facility. I came up with the idea to steal the things we needed to do our jobs. I got us eyes inside the audience chamber with the 456 so we could figure out what was going on and worked out how to lure Agent Johnson to us so we could use our leverage to make the government stand down."

Gwen looked around and saw everyone nodding thoughtfully, accepting what she said. They'd already talked about her uncharacteristic competence, so they were waiting for her to come up with something new.

"When it was all coming apart at the end I was running from the military trying to rescue a bunch of strangers' children," she continued. "And when the crisis was over I was the only one of the Torchwood team who escaped unscathed. Didn't get so much as a scratch, me. And I still had my gorgeous husband," she beamed at Rhys again. "My soon-to-be baby," she put a hand over her tummy. "And my oldest friend," she gave Andy a fond smile. "I still had my lovely, normal life, despite the world crumbling about me."

Proud of herself, Gwen stopped talking as if she was finished. This was her moment. Finally. It really was all about her for once. She looked around the semicircle at nothing but blank faces. Apparently she'd even managed to stump the Doctor. It made her heart sink.

The TRD was reveling in the energy pouring into him through Stephen. The little boy was barely conscious, levitating several inches from the floor, trapped in the blue-white field that surrounded him. Jack and Alice huddled on the carpet sobbing not far from the child.

Gwen's companions looked at each other silently, blinking and frowning, not knowing what to say. Finally, Rhys turned to her and asked gently, "Sorry, but, what's your question, love?"

Gwen sniffed. How could he, of all people, not get it? She sniffed again, and her lower lip trembled. Tears spilled from her eyes. Her lip wobbled again, and she gave a weak little sob. Finally, she blurted, "If I'm so bloody awesome, how come nobody _likes me_?"

And with that, she burst into tears and slumped to the floor, not even noticing the answers as they came.

"Well, you've been treating me like something you'd rather scrape off your shoe ever since you joined bloody Torchwood," Andy began.

"I think you stink," Clem grumbled, "and it isn't the pregnancy, either. Do you even use deodorant?"

"I only just met you, but you seemed awfully eager to replace your dead teammates," Rupesh said. "More than a little too excited if you ask me."

"I think you're a bit long in the tooth to be playing the wide-eyed ingnue," Agent Johnson told her, "but what really makes me sick is how everything you've ever wanted seems to fall right in your lap. Do you have any _idea_ how hard I had to work to get where I am in my career, and you landed a job with Torchwood by delivering a bleeding pizza!"

"She is a bit of a Mary Sue, isn't she?" Lois said. "She just goes swanning about as if her only flaw is just being too bloody perfect. Too clever, too happy, too lucky. People like that make me nauseous."

"I think she confuses compassion with condescension," Rhiannon said. "People appreciate sympathy. They resent pity."

Rhys looked at his wife, who seemed so busy wallowing in self-pity that she was oblivious to the ideas the others were sharing. Each time someone made a suggestion about why so many people found her insufferable, the energy vortex glowed brighter and the electric whine grew more intense. They really did seem to have a chance of prevailing over the monster, but only if all of them did their part. Deciding that if Gwen was too self-absorbed to hear him, it couldn't hurt their marriage, and if something he said actually did sink in, it could only help, Rhys gathered his courage and decided to pitch in.

"I know what you mean about condescension," Rhys said to Ianto's sister. "I understand more about what . . . and _who_ . . . she has done since she began working for bloody Torchwood than she gives me credit for. Went and had an affair, she did. Then confessed it to me and begged my forgiveness before drugging me to make me forget she had told me."

"Then why do you remember it?" Rhiannon asked.

"I have no bloody idea," Rhys admitted. "Your brother could probably explain."

"Some people are immune," Ianto interjected.

"Yeah, well, whatever the reason, it didn't work," Rhys growled. "And let me tell you, it wasn't the affair that left me feeling emasculated, or finding out that my wife risks her life and saves the world on a regular basis while I take care of the cooking, the laundry, and the washing up. What really _pisses_ me off is being treated like a two year old who isn't bright enough to handle the truth! Then, when an alien nearly ruins our wedding and Jack offers to drug me to make me forget the whole mess, she has the nerve to say there'll be no secrets in our marriage."

At this, Gwen glared up at him. "If you remembered me telling you about Owen, then you've been keeping that a secret from me all this time, Rhys Williams!" she snapped.

"Well, now it's out, we need to talk about it properly when this is all over," Rhys said. "I still love you and I still think you're bloody gorgeous, so it can wait a little while longer." Looking at the group, he asked, "Who's next?"

"I am," Ianto said with some authority. "As long as we're talking about the way she behaves with the men in her life, I might as well tell you, I'm just bloody sick of her making eyes at Jack. It's bad enough she's married and carrying on like that with another man, but he's not available!"

"What? I never . . ."

"You do!" Ianto insisted. "More often that you might think. You have a husband, Jack has me, and you're too bloody old for a schoolgirl crush. It's been more than two years, and neither one of you really wants to jeopardize what you have with your partners for some tawdry fling, so get over it already!"

"Ianto," Jack croaked. Then he cleared his throat and stood up. Alice still huddled at his feet, clutching him round the legs, so he stood where he was and threaded his fingers through her hair as he tried to soothe his lover. "Ianto, relax. You know Gwen has always overestimated her own importance to me and to Torchwood. She doesn't even tempt me because she's just too boring. I love her like a kid sister, and I always will and that's all it will ever be. Despite my overstated reputation for shagging anything that moves, even I draw the line at family."

"I have to say, she struck me as self-centered right from the start," the Doctor said. "While we were all trying to work out how to save the world from a dangerous alien, she was upset about being told not to swear. Very selfish," he fretted. "Very selfish indeed."

"I just think she has a filthy mouth," Alice whimpered against Jack's knees. "I wish she would watch her tongue around my son."

"Now that isn't fair!" Gwen objected. "Ianto's been cursing left and right, and you haven't complained. Why are you picking on me?"

"Because I just don't like you," Alice spat over he shoulder. "And life isn't fair, so grow up and get over it. Besides, Ianto is practically my stepfather. Do you really expect me to reprimand him for his language?"

Jack crouched back down to take her in his arms and they resumed clinging to one another as the battle continued to rage around them.

The Doctor looked around at his companions again. The pitch of the energy whine had risen to a piercing sound that bore through their temples and made everyone's heads ache. They all appeared rather anxious and again seemed to have run out of things to say. The time had come to end this nightmare.

"Stephen," the Doctor asked. "What do you think? Why don't people like Miss Cooper?"

As one the group turned to look at the boy, each of them eager to hear what he had to say. Stephen's little body was tense and trembling with the strain of so much energy coursing through it. The tiny muscles in his neck and jaw bulged under the skin and a vein pulsed and throbbed in his temple. Perspiration ran down his face, his eyes bulged, and his skin had flushed bright red.

Struggling to force his words through clenched teeth, the child slowly gasped his pronouncement. "I think . . . she's just . . . a bloody . . . pain . . . in the arse!"

Gwen barely managed to slip in an offended gasp just a heartbeat before the swirling, blue-white energy cloud began to pour itself into Stephen. Faster and faster it rotated, forming an ever-narrowing funnel accompanied by a low, soft whistle that rapidly escalated through a lone wolf's howl, to the roar of the ocean, to an oncoming train, and finally ended with an ear-popping, unearthly, inhuman shriek.

Then the room fell silent.

The umbilical between Stephen and the monster winked out, and some unseen force set the child lightly on his feet. The Doctor's companions stood blinking at each other in the oppressive silence, staring in confusion and not a little fear. One by one, they turned their gazes to the boy who was meant to be their salvation, and then to the creature that intended to be their doom.

The TRD began to laugh, a deep, demonic laugh that spoke of bad acting and low-budget horror films. "You lose," it taunted. "Just as I predicted you would. I told you these puny humans could not overcome me, and now I have enough power to take over the . . ."

With a crack of thunder and enough force to throw Stephen backwards across the room to land on the couch and topple it over, a reed-thin beam of blindingly brilliant, blue-white energy shot out of the boy's chest and into the TRD. Alice screamed, Jack yelled, and both of them ran toward the child. Meanwhile, the TRD wailed in agony, rocked back on his heels, dropped down to his knees, clutching and clawing at the front of his shirt and his tie, tilted to the left, wobbled to the right, and then just slumped forward, still kneeling, to all appearances dead.

The room once again fell silent, except for the sounds of Jack and Alice silently pleading with Stephen to wake up. The group began exchanging mildly bemused looks as they watched the TRD waiting for something more to happen. Then his head fell off with a soft pop and hit the floor with a thump.

The Doctor looked down at the creature's remains in disgust and then looked round at his companions to assure himself that they were unharmed. Stephen was the only one he had doubts about, and he was being tended to by his mother and grandfather. Finally, he locked eyes with Ianto Jones, intuitively recognizing him as second in authority to Jack despite Mrs. Williams's delusions of grandeur.

Ianto shrugged and gave him a small smirk. "That was rather anti-climactic," the young man observed.

Just as an explosion tore through the room.

A moment later, Stephen bounced up from behind the overturned sofa with a bright smile on his face shouting, "Do it again, Grandpa! Do it again!"

Then he took in the room littered with bodies covered in gelatinous green goo and began to cry for his mummy.

TBC

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	12. Cleanup

**Disclaimer: **CoE isn't mine. If it were, I would have used original characters and made it good enough to produce in its own right rather than hijacking the characters from a much-beloved series and completely reinventing their personalities to make them fit into a Quatermass ripoff the BBC didn't really want in the first place. Unfortunately _Torchwood _isn't mine, either. If it were, it would still be bloody _Torchwood _and not _The Preggers Gwen Is a Happily Married Superhero and Everyone Else Is Disposable So I Can Have my Way and Produce Excalibur Despite What the People Who Pay My Salary (a.k.a. The License-Fee Payers and Fans Who Purchase DVDs, Books, and Other Merchandise) Want Show._

**_Chapter Twelve_**

_Clean-up_

Ianto came to with a groan. He heard soft talking and giggles nearby, and turning a bleary gaze toward the sound, found Jack and Alice chatting with Stephen. He smiled, happy for his captain that he seemed to be back on good terms with his daughter.

"You're awake!" Jack beamed at him, passing Stephen back to Alice. "How do you feel?" he asked anxiously.

"All right, I guess," Ianto said, trying, and failing, to sit up as the world swam around him. Putting a hand to his head, he amended, "If having two freight trains colliding inside one's skull qualifies as all right."

Jack snorted a laugh, "Even a hard-headed Welshman can suffer a concussion when he bashes his head on a coffee table."

Ianto pressed his fingers to his temple as a high-pitched, whining _rrreeeeee_ punctuated by the occasional _gloop_ pierced his consciousness. "What is that infernal sound?" he asked. "And please don't tell me it's all in my head."

Jack chuckled. "The Doctor is cleaning up the apartment," he said. "He's collecting the TRD's remains. Says he has a use for them." Giving the young Welshman a pleading look, he added, "It might not meet your exacting standards when he's finished, but it will save you having to do it, so be appreciative."

Ianto scowled. "I did learn some manners as a child, you know," he grumbled, trying to sit up again and this time succeeding with Jack's help.

"Right, sorry," Jack replied, raising his hands defensively. "I just . . . I know you're not too fond of him for leaving me behind." The two men regarded each other for a moment before Jack lowered his gaze. "Thank you."

Ianto frowned. "For what?"

"For holding a grudge for me," Jack said sheepishly. "I know that sounds pretty stupid, but I just can't stay angry at him. You've seen how brilliant and wonderful he is. He set me on the path to becoming the man you love, the man who's lucky enough to love you and have you love him. I just can't stay angry with him over that."

Ianto sighed. "Jack, he may have given you a push in the right direction, but you did all the work," he said.

"And I never would have had the time or opportunity to do that work if he hadn't left me," Jack argued.

"Yes, but . . ."

"But I am grateful that you care enough about me to be angry with him for me," Jack cut him off. "I'm not asking you to be nice, just civil."

Ianto scowled again and nodded. After a bit, he asked, "Anyone else hurt?"

Jack shook his head. "No worse than you. Bumps, bruises and scratches, mostly. People will be sore in the morning, but there's no serious damage."

"What about Stephen?"

Jack chuckled. "He thinks it was all a game," he said. Then his expression darkened. "Or he's convinced himself that's what it was because he can't cope with being the weapon we used to kill another being. Either way, I'm not willing to destroy his illusions right now. I'm going to ask Martha Jones to recommend a good child psychologist from UNIT to talk to my daughter and let her know what warning signs to look for in case there is a problem, but so far, he seems fine."

"I'm glad," Ianto said. "So what now?"

Jack stood from where he was crouching beside his young lover and offered him a hand up. "Now we get you into the TARDIS so she can see to your injuries."

Over the next few hours, the TARDIS healed the injured, the Doctor cleaned up the TRD's apartment, and, once he was feeling better, Ianto made coffee. By ones and twos they eventually all drifted into the TARDIS's kitchen, which mysteriously grew to accommodate them comfortably. The Doctor was the last to join them. When Ianto handed him a cup of coffee, he took it warily, eyed it uncertainly, sniffed it suspiciously, and sipped it tentatively before swallowing a huge gulp appreciatively.

"Right, then," the Time Lord said. "I'm taking you all back home now, and you will have one hour to get someplace where you feel safe and take a mild sedative that I will distribute before I set things right." He gestured to the back-pack device sitting in the corner and said, "I'll be releasing that energy through the BBC broadcasting tower and it will shatter the time bubble caused by the TRD's manipulation. Things will go back to the way they were before all this nonsense with the 456 began. I'm not sure exactly when that will be, but chances are you will be left feeling disoriented, confused, and a little paranoid. It will be easier if you are someplace where you feel comfortable when that happens."

Jack frowned. "So, we won't remember what's happened here today?"

"You might, or you might not," the Doctor told him. "This isn't like the Valiant, Jack. Those events were real, this, well, it was real, too, but not necessarily really real, if you know what I mean. It's all a bit wibbly-wobbly, timey . . ."

"Wimey. Yeah. I get it," Jack said. "What about my memories from 1965?"

"All a fiction," the Doctor assured him. "Planted in your mind by the TRD."

"Why the sedatives?" Gwen asked. "And will they hurt my baby?"

"Is she really pregnant?" Rhys butted in. "Or is that just something else created by the TRD?"

"Yes, she is," the Doctor told Rhys. "No they won't," he said to Gwen. "You should take the sedatives because suffering through a temporal reset of this magnitude after what you have been through would produce a hangover the likes of which would make you wish you had just died and gotten it over with in the first place. Sleeping through it will just cause you to wake up feeling a little more fuzzy-headed than you usually would first thing in the morning," the Doctor said.

Gwen nodded, but did not look convinced.

Seeing her doubt, the Doctor said, "I can assure you that the drug will not affect your child, Mrs. Williams, and I strongly encourage you to take it." When she still looked uncertain, he shrugged and added, "Or you can disregard my instructions and suffer the consequences. It's your headache."

"Anything else we need to know, Doc?" Jack asked, eager to get home and back to his life.

"A few things that I'll put in a note which you will receive after I reset time," the Doctor said. "Don't want to risk you forgetting important information in the process."

Jack nodded. "Ok, then, take us home."

TBC

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	13. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: **CoE is not mine. Wish I could say the same about some of my relatives. _Torchwood _isn't mine either. Wish it were. I'd have done a better job with Season 3.

**Author's Note: **Apologies again for the delay in posting. We went on vacation to Georgia to visit my brother and his family. I had the rest of this story saved on a jump drive so I could upload it from their computerand left it at home. The vacation was lovely, although we all caught summer colds and now even my teeth ache, but now I am home and will be uploading the last chapters just two more after this one by the end of the week.

**_Chapter Thirteen_**

_Aftermath_

Rhiannon Davies sat bolt upright in the darkness with her heart pounding and her breath coming short. She had gone from a sound sleep to wide-awake, adrenaline-fuelled terror without even a moment of comfortable languor beneath the covers.

"Mica! David!" She screamed for her children as horrifying images of chaos and destruction flooded her mind. Ignoring her husband Johnny's shouted curses, she threw the blankets aside and tumbled out of bed.

"Mica? David?" Stumbling over the random shoe or misplaced toy that never seemed to get put away, she made her way to her children's rooms, calling their names and trying, and failing, to keep the panic out of her voice so she didn't upset them.

Mica's room was closest, so she snatched the little girl out of her bed, covers and all, and carried her back out into the hall and down to David's room. His sister's crying and his mam's calls had woken the boy, and by the time Rhiannon arrived, he was sitting up in bed, blinking bewilderedly in the light from his bedside lamp.

"Mam?" he asked, sounding more than a little concerned. "What's wrong, Mam?"

Between smothering her children with kisses, she reassured them, "Nothing . . . my darlings . . . nothing is wrong . . . Mam just had a bad dream . . . I'm sorry for waking you." After reassuring herself that they were there and they were now safe, she pressed David back down to the mattress and pulled the covers up to his chin, then carried Mica back to her bed and tucked her in.

PC Andy Davidson startled awake in his police car when a shabbily dressed teenager with lip, nose, and brow piercings and a forehead tattoo pounded on his window and jeered loudly. "Bloody chavs," he grumbled. Putting the window down, he shouted to the obnoxious kid, "Shouldn't you been in school or out looking for a job?" Then he realized it was still the middle of the night. A moment later, a sea of memories flooded his mind, and he just leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes again as he struggled to process them.

Dr. Rupesh Patanjali yawned and stretched and made a confused little sound when he realized that his hand had struck a wall. Opening his eyes, he saw the underside of a bunk and realized he was in the sleep room for on-call doctors at St. Mary's A&E. Shaking his head to clear the last vestiges of a nightmare from the edges of his mind, he crawled out of bed and headed for the nurses' station. He couldn't rightly remember what day it was, but if he was off the rota he wanted to get home for a shower and then find a spot on the Plass from which to watch the comings and goings of the Torchwood team. Sooner or later he would find a way to infiltrate them, but in the meantime, he had to convince Agent Johnson that he was diligently working on it because he knew she would as gladly shoot him as look at him.

John Frobisher, Permanent Secretary to the Home Office, lurched out of a sound sleep with a gasp. He was overcome with a powerful need to check on his daughters, yet at the same time, he couldn't bear to leave his wife. Shaking her gently, he said, "Anna? Anna, wake up darling."

"Mmm. John? What is it?"

Taking her hand he drew her after him as he climbed out of bed. "Come with me, darling."

"What? Why, John?" she demanded sounding somewhat bewildered. "Have you gone mad?"

"Perhaps," he chuckled, hoping it masked the inexplicable dread that he felt. "I just want to look in on the girls, and I want you to come with me."

Still wrapped in a fog of sleep, she willingly complied with his request and followed him to Lily's room. They gazed in at their elder daughter for a moment before John turned and opened the door to Holly's room.

"They look like angels," he observed.

"Just wait until they wake up," Anna joked. Then her husband looked at her and she saw the haunted expression on his face. Growing serious, she said, "They are beautiful," John, and they are safe. What has you so upset?"

"I . . . I don't know," Frobisher admitted. "I just needed to see them."

"Well, now you have seen them," Anna said. Tugging gently on her husband's hand, she said, "Let's go back to bed."

Mr. Dekker, Head of the Technology Division for MI5, woke with a gasp and an overwhelming sense of anxiety, as if there were something vitally important that he was neglecting. Then he looked at the clock, saw that it was barely two in the morning, put the feeling down to bad dreams or something he ate, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Brian Green did not wake up so much as fall away from the edges of sleep. He rarely woke up these days, because he rarely ever really slept. He had thought he knew what the job of Prime Minister entailed. He thought he was ready for it, but in the months since he had taken office, he had discovered that no one was ready for such responsibility. Every day he felt understood a little better why Saxon had gone mad and why Aubrey Fairchild was so eager to step down.

There had been a time when the man he used to be would have hated the man he had become. He had entered county politics as a young man with the simple goal of improving the bloody dangerous roads and bridges in his part of the country, but his political party had recognized his dignified good looks and charm as prime material for an important candidate and nominated him for higher and higher offices. As the stakes got bigger so did the scandals, and now he spent so much time covering his own arse that he rarely got to so much as speak to the people he had wanted to represent.

Attributing his vague sense of unease to the normal qualms and anxiety that came with the incredible power he wielded, he settled back under the covers and tried to get some rest. Come morning, no one would know the petty fears and worries that plagued him at night.

Clement MacDonald jolted awake with a sobbing gasp. Scrabbling around for the switch to his bedside lamp, he turned it on and threw back the covers. In the weak light, he paced the room, fingered the drapes, picked up and put down a knickknack, a hair brush, a bottle of perfume, the novel on his bedside table, trying to reassure himself that the life he had built was real.

His wife, his childhood sweetheart, the girl he had fallen in love with when they were growing up in the orphanage, woke up with a moan. "Clem, darling, what is it?"

Sitting beside her on her side of the bed, he nearly wept, "Oh, Laura, you wouldn't believe the dream I've had."

Agent Johnson woke with a groan and stared at the ceiling from her army cot for a few moments wondering, as she did every morning, how she had come to be so imprisoned by her life. She had started out as an army liaison to UNIT, distinguished herself in a couple of crises, won a couple of shooting competitions, and was soon recruited into black ops. Now, some twenty years later, she was running an operation so top secret, it was deemed a security risk for her and her subordinates even to maintain their own flats. The others now lived in the barracks and she kept her sleeping quarters in a small room just off the facility's main data centre. As the mists of sleep cleared from her mind taking the strange images of the night with them, she began making a mental list of things she must do today. It began with contacting Dr. Patanjali. Maybe once she got someone inside Torchwood, the powers that be would allow her and her team to get back to their lives.

Lois Habiba woke yet again with a groan. She had been tortured by strange dreams all night and had hit the snooze button on her alarm clock at least three times. She briefly considered calling out sick, but this was her last day in the secretarial pool and she knew her mates had a send off planned for her. Tomorrow, she started her new job as Junior PA to Permanent Secretary to the Home Office, John Frobisher. She was meant to help Bridget Spears out while they were upgrading the computer system at Whitehall, and hoped to prove herself indispensable enough to secure a permanent position. It simply wouldn't do to skip out on her friends on her last day at the old job, and it wouldn't make a very good impression on her new boss if word got back to him, either.

Bridget Spears sat up in bed with an overwhelming sense that she wanted to weep. Her mind was flooded with thoughts of children, her own great nieces and nephews, children of other people she cared about like Lily and Holly Frobisher, the kids in the neighbourhood who would wave and say hello when she was working in her garden, and the youth choir from the church that came carolling at Christmas time. For some reason, an overwhelming sadness filled her and a small sob escaped.

"Oh, bloody hell," she muttered as she staggered to the kitchen to put the kettle on. "As if the hot flashes weren't enough, now you're getting all emotional. It just won't do, Bridget!"

Making a mental note to call her doctor about hormone replacement therapy, she stuffed the weepy feelings down and set about making toast.

Stephen Carter ran into his mother's bedroom shouting, "Mummy! Mummy! Is the monster gone? Did we kill it?"

His cries startled Alice out of a fitful sleep, but she knew right away what he was talking about. Lifting the covers so her frightened child could climb in beside her, she told him reassuringly, "Yes, darling, it's gone. We stopped it together, you and me, and your granddad and his friends."

Stephen sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "I wanna talk to Grandpa."

Alice thought about it a moment. Her dad never did sleep much so it probably wasn't too early to call him, but she didn't know about that young man who was with him now. Ianto had been through as much or more than the rest of them the past few days, and she didn't want to wake him. Still, she had a frightened child on her hands now, and her dad's partner could catch up on his sleep later.

Picking up the bedside phone, she began to dial.

Rhys Williams rolled over with a contented sigh and reached out to pull his wife to him only to grunt in surprise when he got nothing but an armful of duvet. Blinking myopically about the bedroom, he sighed again, this time in resignation, when he realized that, once again, Gwen was not there. He was proud of his wife, delighted that she loved her job of helping to save the world on a regular basis, but damn, he wished Jack Bloody Harkness would do something to dispel her belief that the team could not function without her there.

Oh, Rhys knew that, despite her many faults, Gwen was really a clever girl, sometimes even showing a flash of brilliance, but somehow, she had gotten the idea that she was indispensable to Torchwood, which was especially strange to Rhys because he knew now that they had been around for well over a hundred years before she had ever met Jack Harkness. He also knew that his wife loved him more than anything, and he was quietly confident that if she ever had to choose between him and her job, she would choose him, especially after that incident with the space-whale thing.

He just wished on mornings like this, after the day they'd had yesterday and the troubles they'd gone through the few days previously, that she would be more conscientious about showing him how important he was to her. Then he heard the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom and, thinking that it had to be morning sickness, he couldn't help but smile.

Ianto Jones woke to the sound of his lover talking softly into the phone and fairly purred with contentment as he rolled over and cuddled close to Jack's side. They had sat up talking until quite late about how and why things had gone so wrong over the past few days and celebrating the fact that, under the Doctor's leadership, they had been able to put them right. Then they had decided to have a lie in the next morning, taken the sedatives the Doctor had given them, and snuggled under the duvet.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jack chuckled. "He may act like a fussy old man, but don't you think he's a little young to be called Grandpa Ianto?"

With an indignant grunt, Ianto looked up at Jack who laughed openly down at him. "Stephen?" he mouthed, and Jack nodded.

"Well, I have to make sure Ianto doesn't have plans, but we should be able to come by for Sunday dinner," Jack said. "You can ask him yourself then."

Ianto heard Stephen's shrill voice but not the words, and then Jack said, "All right, soldier. Give your mum a kiss for me, and I will see you soon."

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Jack asked with concern as he turned off the phone and put it down on the night stand.

"Not at all," Ianto told him with a shake of his head. "Are Stephen and Alice all right?"

"Yeah. Stephen was just a bit upset when he woke up," Jack said. "Alice said he specifically asked to talk to me. That's why she called so early. We've been invited round to Sunday dinner."

"So I heard," Ianto said. "I'll be happy to go with you, but Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I want us to get together with Rhiannon and her family soon, too," he said. "If we're . . . together now, you should get to know my family as much as I should get to know yours."

Jack gave his young lover a blinding smile which was followed by a soft, sensual kiss. "I'm looking forward to it," he said.

TBC

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	14. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **CoE isn't mine. Hopefully I have fixed what it broke to everyone's satisfaction, or at least to everyone's amusement.****

**_Chapter Fourteen_**

_Epilogue_

"So, what are our plans for today?" Jack asked as he and Ianto breezed into the Hub from the underground car park.

"I'll let you know as soon as I figure out what today is," Ianto told him. "I'm not at all sure how far back the Doctor . . . reset . . . time . . . Jack? What is that?"

Jack drew his Webley as he approached his office. On the centre of his desk was what looked like a large, domed serving platter. Looking around, Ianto finally picked up a large and heavy alien object of unknown origin and purpose. If nothing else, it would serve to bash the hell out of something. Cautiously they entered the office, Ianto going right and Jack going left and then around behind the desk where he saw a heavy parchment envelope with the words _Read Me First _scrawled on it in a familiar hand propped up against the cover of the tray.

With a relieved sigh, Jack holstered his weapon and told Ianto, "There's a note in the Doctor's handwriting."

"I mean no disrespect, but that isn't necessarily a good sign that we should disarm ourselves," Ianto said, hefting his alien basher-thingy as if to emphasize his point.

Jack just cocked an eyebrow and smirked as he sat behind the desk and opened the note. Ianto swallowed hard, trying not to show how that look affected him. It was, by far, one of Jack's sexiest expressions, partly because he seemed to have no conscious idea of how alluring it was.

"_Dear Jack & Mr. Jones,_" he read aloud. Looking up at Ianto he asked, "Why are you Mr. Jones and I'm just Jack?"

"Probably because he recognizes my innate dignity," Ianto replied seriously as he came around the desk and rested a hip on the edge to sit there facing Jack.

"And what about my innate dignity?" Jack demanded.

"Do you have any?"

Jack growled slightly and asked, "Since when does wearing a floppy hat and a yellow Mackintosh and fretting about having to do laundry qualify as dignity?"

"I am also more mature and responsible than you," Ianto pointed out. "If it weren't for me, everyone would have ruined their clothes."

"Whatever," Jack said with a sigh, then went back to reading the note. "_Forgive me if I repeat some of the things I told you last night, but as I mentioned then, I'm not sure how much of the past few days you will remember._"

Jack looked expectantly at Ianto, who frowned and spoke slowly, "I remember last night, of course, all of us working together to kill the TRD, and before that I remember that we had to go to London to confront an alien that was threatening children." Clearly the young man was searching his memories, and clearly he was becoming more perturbed by the lack of information he found there. "The last thing I recall before going to London with you is Weevil hunting, and we do that so often, I have no idea when it really happened." Quite concerned now, he asked anxiously, "Jack? Why is everything so fuzzy? What's wrong with me?"

"Shhh, it's all right," Jack told him soothingly as he rubbed a hand on the outside of Ianto's thigh. "Sometimes that happens when a time anomaly is corrected, and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if it was worse for you because you banged your head in the fight with the TRD."

"I . . . I remember that," Ianto said. "And I remember making coffee for everyone after the TARDIS patched me up. I also remember Stephen calling us early this morning and you saying I acted like a fussy old man. Jack, when did I learn that you had a daughter and a grandson?"

"Just recently," Jack told him.

Ianto frowned. "How recently?"

Jack gave him an uncomfortable, sheepish look and said, "Technically maybe you haven't. It was during the time we were all under the influence of the TRD."

"And why did you wait so long to tell me?" Ianto asked.

If recent events had taught Jack anything, it was to be more open with the ones he loved, but now was not the time for full disclosure. "For a variety of complicated reasons that I promise we will talk about as soon as we have finished reading the Doctor's note, dealt with whatever is under this cover, figured out the correct date, and handled any pressing business we have scheduled, all right?"

Ianto nodded, then asked, "What's the rest of the note say?"

"_There is no telling exactly how far back the TRD's damage goes_," Jack read. "_It may have been weeks or months, but I doubt it was more than a couple of years because, as horrible as it was, the war between the Cybermen and the Daleks for the conquest of earth did not feel wrong, temporally speaking."_

Ianto looked warily at Jack. "At least we know we're supposed to know each other," he said.

Jack nodded. "But how well?"

"That's a good question," Ianto said. The two men shared a silent moment, then Ianto said nervously, "Jack?"

"Hm?" Jack hummed, still scanning the note.

"I don't want to go back, however long it's been. I like what we have and I want to keep it," the young man said firmly.

Jack smiled up at him. "So do I," he assured his lover, and then half rose out of his seat to pull Ianto to him in a passionate kiss to seal the promise.

After Jack sat back in his chair, the two of them took a moment to catch their breath before Jack began reading again.

"_You may find that you have several months of scattered memories that do not entirely match historical records,_"the note continued. "_While the TRD was able to influence events, he was not powerful enough to control them until the past few weeks. Some things that you remember were never meant to be, and now they aren't. Other events that were meant to happen did not, and now they have. Most things prior to the past week or so are going to be just as you remember them, but some of the differences may have been very significant events, so you and your team should probably spend some time reading back issues of newspapers, at least eighteen months worth._"

"That explains how Gwen is still pregnant, then," Ianto commented. "But if she doesn't recall our relationship developing to this point, seeing us together could really confuse her."

Smirking devilishly, Jack said, "Even on a good day, simple things can really confuse Gwen. If she doesn't get it, we'll just sit her down and explain it to her. She'll learn to deal with it because we won't give her any other choice."

Ianto beamed at him so brightly that Jack felt compelled to ask, "What?"

"Thank you."

Perplexed, Jack asked, "For what?"

"For saying that," Ianto told him. "For being willing to talk to her about us." The young man dipped his head shyly and said, "I . . . I know you can't promise me forever, because that's going to be a lot longer for you than it will be for me, even if I do become a fussy old man someday; but it still means a lot to know that you take us seriously, that this is more than just an affair for you."

When Jack didn't respond right away, Ianto grew nervous. "I mean, it is, isn't it? More than an affair?"

After another quiet moment, Jack surged up out of his chair, engulfed the young man in a bone-crushing hug, and between smothering him with kisses, said vehemently, "A hell of a lot more! You might be right . . . about forever . . . but I can promise you . . . that as long as . . . you're . . . here . . . I'll be here for you . . . for as long as we have. I _love _you, Ianto Jones!"

Ianto allowed himself to be kissed senseless for a few moments, before he leaned away from Jack and tilted his head up to meet his gaze. Jack's eyes were red-rimmed and watery, and his anguished expression gave Ianto pause.

"How much do you remember of the past week, Jack?" he asked.

Jack worried his lower lip between his teeth, at first refusing to answer.

"Jack?"

"More than you," he said. "Please don't ask me what. I wish I could forget."

Ianto considered the request for a minute before slowly nodding. "All right," he agreed. "You'll tell me in your own time or deal with it on your own," he said, "but if I begin to worry that you're not coping with it effectively, I reserve the right to contact Martha Jones to get you some help, got it?"

Jack sniffed and nodded. When Ianto's intense gaze became too much for him, he sat back down and took up the note again.

"_You may recall using your grandson to focus the thought energy we used to kill the TRD. With the right care and attention, he should be just fine, but you do need to keep an eye on him. In case you have forgotten, you were going to ask Martha Jones to recommend a UNIT psychologist for him._"

Ianto chuckled slightly and muttered, "Great minds think alike."

Jack smiled up at him, but he could think of nothing to say save to repeat how much he loved the young man. So after a few seconds spent adoring his beautiful Welshman, he went back to reading the letter.

"_All that remains of the TRD is its head, which you will find on the platter under the dome. Rassilon knows I have no use for it, but I thought it might be an interesting object of study for your Torchwood team. I suggest you get it into a preservative solution before it starts stinking up the place._"

Ianto lifted the dome and made a disgusted face. "God that thing's hideous," he gasped.

"I know," Jack agreed, "but the Doctor's right. We should study it to see if we can find any identifying characteristics to help us spot one in the future. You could leave it to Gwen to preserve."

Ianto wrinkled his nose. "You know how she is. Now that she's pregnant, she's going to complain that everything gives her morning sickness hoping we'll coddle her even more. I'd just as soon do it myself. That way I'll know it's done correctly and save myself having to listen to her whinge."

Jack nodded. "Smart man." He looked down at the letter again and continued reading. "_I didn't mention this in the TARDIS because we had company, but you should beware of a young physician named Rupesh Patanjali. He works for a mercenary agent named Johnson. I do not know the identity of Agent Johnson's employer, but someone is trying to infiltrate Torchwood for nefarious purposes. They are two very talented individuals, and if you can convince them to come over to your side, they would good additions to your team._"

"Rupesh Patanjali? Why do I know that name?" Jack muttered.

"A&E at Saint Helen's," Ianto said. "He's crossed out path a couple of times when we had to take Weevil victims in for treatment."

Frowning thoughtfully, he said, "Tall, great smile, kind of cute?"

Scowling, Ianto replied, "You think everybody's 'kind of cute'. I thought he was rather on the skinny side and had a bit of a daft look about him."

"Maybe we're talking about different guys," Jack suggested.

"I doubt it," Ianto deadpanned. "Finish the letter."

"_Also be on the lookout for a young woman named Lois Habiba,_" Jack read."_She thinks she's just a secretary, but she has the heart of a lioness and she is absolutely brilliant. If she doesn't cross your path in the next few months, seek her out and offer her a job. You won't regret it._"

"I remember her," Ianto said. "A little on the short side, bright and clever, a great stenographer, and she was, as you so eloquently put it, 'kind of cute'."

"Maybe we should look her up sooner rather than later," Jack suggested. "Start her out by putting her in charge of the tourist office and some of your more custodial duties, maybe ease her into becoming a field agent."

Ianto nodded. "I agree. If the recent crisis is any indication, she might be prime Torchwood material."

"Unless it was all part of the TRD's manipulations," Jack said, then, deciding he would come back to the matter later, he continued with the letter before Ianto could reply. "_You and your team should keep an eye on each other and your families for a while. You've all been through quite a lot of stress lately. Besides Alice and Stephen, Rhys, and Rhiannon, Dr. Patanjali, Miss Habiba, and Agent Johnson, you should probably look in on Mrs. Williams's friend PC Andy Davidson and a Scotsman named Clement MacDonald. Mr. MacDonald in particular may be a bit bewildered by the memories he has, and a dose of your Retcon may actually benefit him._"

"Clement MacDonald?" Ianto asked. Jack gave him a look that reflected his own confusion and the two of them just shrugged. "Guess that goes on our to-do list for today."

"We'll locate him today," Jack said. "But if it's more than an hour's drive round-trip, we won't go see him until tomorrow. We need to spend some time making sure things are in order around here first."

Ianto gave him a surprised look. "Since when have you cared about order?"

Jack scowled slightly and said, "I remember more than you. We need at least a day to look after ourselves. In fact, before we talk about why I didn't tell you about my family, I want you to look in on your sister."

Ianto gave him a grateful smile and gestured toward the letter, "Go on."

"_If Mrs. Williams complains of feeling poorly, kindly tell her that it's not too late to take the sedative I gave her so that she can sleep off the effects of the temporal correction. If she objects and you don't want to listen to her complain, remind her that it won't affect her baby because it doesn't cross the placenta and even if it did, it wouldn't be any worse than the stress of Mummy being sick as a dog for days. If, on the other hand, she's just whinging about morning sickness, I would suggest a nice cup of peppermint tea._"

Jack and Ianto shared a smirk. "You'd think he knows her already," the captain said.

"He is a time traveller," Ianto replied. "For all we know, he does."

"_Finally, Jack, I want to thank you and your friends and colleagues for helping me to deal with the TRD. Brilliant as I am, it was one problem I couldn't have handled on my own because I simply wasn't there to witness all the anomalies the rest of you saw. I know I should have said so back on the TARDIS, but you know me, rude and not ginger._"

"And not so good at admitting his feelings, either," Jack commented.

"_Take care of each other._"

"That's it," Jack said.

Looking over the captain's shoulder, Ianto tapped the page below the Doctor's rather elaborate signature. There was one paragraph in a form of writing unlike anything he had ever seen. "What's that say?"

Jack skimmed it quickly and said, "Not something I can share with you. Can't interfere with the timelines. Sorry."

If Ianto recognised the tremor of falsehood in his voice, he didn't mention it. Instead, he just stood with a sigh and headed out to the workstations with Jack following along behind him. "So, busy day for us, then," he said, beginning to order their tasks in his mind. "Make coffee, feed Myfanwy and the aliens, find out the date, pickle the TRD's head, check on Rhiannon and Andy Davidson, look up this Clement MacDonald and visit him if he lives nearby, make some inquiries about a female mercenary named Agent Johnson, start reading the last eighteen months worth of newspapers . . ."

The proximity alarm sounded, drowning out his words as Gwen staggered into the Hub.

"God! Does that bloody thing have to be so bloody loud?" she demanded.

The siren abruptly stopped as if taking the hint and Ianto told her, "If the alarm were quiet, it would cease to be . . . alarming."

Flopping on the sofa behind the workstations and covering her face with a pillow, Gwen groaned, "And do the bloody lights have to be so bloody bright all the time? Ianto, you're good with electronics. Can't you install a dimmer switch, voice activated, maybe?"

"Are you sure you don't mean whinge activated?" he asked her archly.

"You didn't take the Doctor's sedative, did you?" Jack demanded sternly.

"No," she groaned. "I didn't want to forget anything."

"And do you remember everything?" Jack asked.

"How in the hell am I supposed to know? My head is throbbing so that I can't bloody think!" Gwen whined.

"Then you deserve every bit of what you're feeling now," Jack told her, "and we've all got work to do. I need you to locate a Clement MacDonald. Ianto and I don't remember him, but he was apparently mixed up in the events of the past week and may need retconning, or at least someone to reassure him that he's not losing his mind. Then you can get busy looking for a female mercenary named Agent Johnson. You might be able to track her down through an A&E doctor named Rupesh Patanjali from Saint Helen's Hospital. Once you've finished doing that, you may check in with Rhys and PC Andy. Ianto will be preserving some alien remains, and you will help him with that if he needs you. Then I want you to start summarizing the major news stories of the past eighteen months. According to the Doctor, the TRD's influence may have altered our memories going back that far."

Sitting up and casting aside her pillow, she winced at the bright light and said, "Sod off, Jack Bloody Harkness!" Glaring at Ianto, she caught him just before he could stop smirking about Jack telling her off and snarled, "Sod you too! And sod the lights and the alarm and the alien remains, and _bugger_ the bloody Doctor!"

Standing, she put a hand to her forehead and continued in a pained whisper, "I am going to have a lie down in the staff quarters before this bloody hangover on top of the morning sickness kills me. If anyone calls for me, they can sod off, too. Do not wake me unless it's the end of the world."

Glancing at Jack, Ianto said, "I told you she was going to start blaming everything on the pregnancy."

"Shut up!" Gwen snapped, and painfully stalked away.

As she wandered down the passage and out of earshot, Jack said, "I know it serves her right for not taking the Doctor's advice, but seeing her that ill makes me worry for her baby."

Ianto had to agree. There really was no need for the child to suffer because its mother was an immature, self-centred brat. Swallowing his irritation with his colleague, he told Jack, "You go on into your office and try to figure out where you are in your paperwork. I'll check on her in a few minutes, and if she hasn't taken her sedative yet, I'll get her to take the extra one the Doctor gave me in case you were stubborn about taking yours."

"He what?"

"Strangest thing," Ianto said. "Just as I was about to ask him for it, he offered it."

"So you two just conspired to drug me against my will?" Jack gasped in mock astonishment.

With a shrug and a smile Ianto replied, "As I said before, great minds think alike."

"So, I think, do devious minds," Jack grumbled.

"Of course they do," Ianto agreed. "Now, off you go," he said pointing towards Jack's office. "Work to do."

Jack smiled at his Welshman fondly, then, with a sweet awkwardness, he moved closer and gave him a chaste little peck on the cheek. "I . . . love you," he said, wishing the words came more easily and knowing they would with practice. Then he headed toward his office leaving a stunned Ianto staring after him.

"Love you, too," the words came easily to his ears just before he crossed the threshold into his personal domain.

Waving an acknowledgment without looking round, he continued to his desk where he sat down and tried to look busy.

TBC

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	15. Post Script

**Disclaimer: **CoE isn't mine. Neither is _Torchwood_. Both belong to Russell T Davies and the BBC. As far as I am concerned, they can keep CoE, but I really wish they would turn _Torchwood _over to Chris Chibnall and Phil Collinson.

As a **parody **and a work of** literary criticism**, this story **is **mine and **is **protected by U.S. copyright law. It is also permitted under fair dealing for the purposes of criticism or review under Section 30 of the _U.K__. Copyrights, Designs, and Patents Act of 1988. _So sue me. You'll probably lose, and if you win, I have nothing worth taking anyway.

**_Chapter Fifteen_**

_Post Script_

Back at his desk, the first thing Jack did was take up the Doctor's letter again. He skipped over everything above the signature and focused solely on the post script. It was in a language he hadn't seen in almost two hundred years, or over two thousand, if you counted the time he spent first buried under what was now modern Cardiff and then frozen in Torchwood's morgue, which he usually tried to forget. It was a language whose first roots wouldn't begin to grow for more than a thousand years after the first Earth colonists settled on the planet Sunday. It was the language of the Jack's youth, the language he had learned to speak and read and write as a boy growing up on the Boeshane Peninsula. It was the language of Boekind, shared by humans and the indigenous beings, a language Ianto would never have the opportunity to learn.

_Jack, I write this in the words of Boeshane so that you never have to share it unless you so choose. I don't know how much you will remember of the past few days, but you must know that Mr. Jones loves you unconditionally. Don't be a fool like I was with Rose, Martha, Sarah Jane, and you. Don't spurn that love, so freely given, because it will hurt too much to lose it when he must, eventually, die. I have seen what happens to you when you don't let yourself love and be loved. By the time I met that man in 1941, he wasn't even capable of loving himself, which was a tragedy because even then, he was absolutely brilliant. Instead, accept the gift of Mr. Jones's love, treasure it, cherish it, and return it abundantly and without reservation. I cannot tell you how or why, but I know you must do this. You will face much loss in your long lifetime, and I know from my own experience, which will one day seem like very little by comparison, that no loss hurts so much or so long as that of a missed opportunity. _

_Be well, Jack. Know that, even if our paths should never cross again, I will always think of you fondly; and whatever you do, show the ones you love how you feel about them, Mr. Jones most of all. _

For once in his life, Jack did not feel the least bit guilty about lying to someone he loved. The Doctor's words moved him deeply, and he was glad that others could see what he and Ianto shared. But after losing Ianto to the 456 and then getting him back the next day, he had already made the commitment to show his true feelings whenever possible. He never, ever wanted Ianto to doubt that his words and actions were anything but sincere, and he certainly didn't want him to suspect they were the result of the Doctor's advice. He wanted Ianto to know that what they shared was real and true and from the heart.

Finding himself unable to concentrate on his work, he left his desk and moved out to the workstations where he slipped his arms around his young lover and kissed him on the temple.

"Jack, I'm working," Ianto said mildly as he continued typing.

"We can take two days off," Jack assured him.

"We can't blow off work just because you want to . . ."

"I don't want to shag," Jack told him.

Ianto turned halfway around and looked at him sceptically.

"Well, not right now," Jack clarified. "I just . . . want to be with you," he said.

Ianto didn't comment on Jack's expression or his tone, but he strongly suspected that the captain's atypical neediness had something to do with events of the past few days which Jack remembered and he did not. Resisting the urge to ask what had happened, he entered the last commands that would set the computer to work searching out Clement MacDonald and Agent Johnson.

"Wait here," he said when he was satisfied that the computer was working as it should. Then he went into the kitchenette and drew a glass of water. "I'm just going to look in on Gwen," he said as he walked back through the Hub.

A few minutes later he emerged from the passageway to find Jack waiting for him on the couch. "I've phoned Colonel Mace," the captain said. "We're all on leave for the next twenty-four hours. Did Gwen take the sedative?"

"She did, finally," Ianto replied, "and fell asleep talking to Rhys on her mobile. Let's get out of here."

"What do you want to do?" Jack asked, slipping his hand into Ianto's and feeling his heart skip a beat when the young man squeezed back after a brief, startled hesitation.

"It's a lovely day. Have you ever been sailing?" Ianto asked.

"Not since I was a boy," Jack said.

"Well, that wasn't so long ago for me," Ianto teased. "Let's go back to my place so I can change and pack us a picnic, and then we can hire a sailing boat for the day."

Jack couldn't help grinning. "Sounds like a plan."

Quirking his lips in a smirk, Ianto added, "Then we can shag."

FIN

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